Turntable
by lilyamongthorns
Summary: She was awesome. He could tell from the moment she walked in the door and made the little jingle bell above the doorframe jingle. (College AU, sort of. 1,000 words. TBC maybe).
1. Chapter 1

AN: So this happened. You might say it came to me in a dream. Hehe. More to come, if its well received.

-O-O-O-

She was awesome. He could tell from the moment she walked in the door and made the little jingle bell above the doorframe jingle. She wore shredded black jeans, a pair of heavy boots, and a well-worn red hoodie with a ring of fur around the hood. Her blonde hair was in a long braid tossed over one shoulder, revealing the tiny skull earrings she wore and the little tattoo she had below her ear lobe. He couldn't tell what the blue blob was from this distance. A bird?

She beelined for the hard rock section without acknowledging his presence at the counter, but most did the exact same thing. He was skinny, lank,y and geeky. Not quiet. Not shy. Just a dork. It seemed he was born with some sort of quality that automatically made him inevitably ignorable.

He watched her look through several rows of records, her lips quirked in concentration; the way she gave a satisfied grin when the found something she liked, the way her round eyes squinted at titles and price tags, contemplating.

He busied himself with re-organizing the returned records behind the counter, trying to keep his eyes off her and look inconspicuous. But she was very pretty, even with her thick eyeliner that smudged too low under her eyes. Her lashes were curly and brushed her cheeks when she blinked. He noticed the light freckles that dappled over her cheeks, and he wondered how old she was.

He tried to gulp away his suddenly dry throat when her boots pounded heavily over to the counter, but still his voice cracked when he asked if she'd found everything easily.

It was a stupid question, he thought, but he was supposed to ask. Of course she had found everything. If she hadn't she would've asked or left.

She gave a polite smile, small and lacking intimacy. The smile as his customers gave. They didn't want to chat; they wanted their music. He got it. He didn't want to chat either.

He righted his glasses along the bridge of his nose and bagged her records. She'd picked out several. _The Who_ was on top, and he voiced his approval.

"They're pretty cool," he said, shoving the LP into the plastic sack.

She nodded again, distracted. "Yep," she said.

She poked at a display of rubber wristbands near the register that nobody ever bought.

He was out things to say when he saw her other choices: an unfamiliar metal band and one of those somber, emo soloists who serenaded you into a trance of numbness.

"Well…umm…" he said and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, focusing on the register's screen. He read off the tiny totaled numbers. "Its sixty-two-forty-seven."

She handed over a generic blue debit card, and he ran the transaction. His mind raced with things he could say in the breadth of awkward seconds it took for the operating system to connect and run the card. It was always awkward, but he liked this girl.

Yeah. He liked her.

_What's your tattoo of? You're really pretty. I like your braid. Yeah, the Bloodthistries…they're a pretty cool…uhh…band._

He said none of these. Instead, something else even more intensely stupid tumbled out of his mouth.

"What are you doing Thursday night?"

She cut her eyes at him disbelievingly. "Excuse me?" she almost snarled, ruffled by his question.

He held out her bag of records and she snatched it. She had the opportunity to leave now. To slam the door and knock the jingle bell from its little hook. But she stood there, glaring at his reddening face.

"I meant…oh…Um that we're having this thing Thursday…here…People bring records and take turns playing them. Kind of a chill…thing. There will be punch. Someone will probably spike it at some point during the night. I'm supposed to promote it. My boss says. Its really sort of lame, actually. And you probably wouldn't like it. Forget I said anything…heh…" He rubbed at the scruff of his neck again and tried to smile innocently.

Her grimace blossomed into a smile that he couldn't quite read. Was she ticked? Was she going to punch him and knock his glasses from his too-warm ears? Was she actually amused at his stupidity?

"I probably wouldn't like it," she said.

"Oh," he said stupidly.

She turned for the door without another word, shuffling her boots along the thin, ragged carpet.

The bell jingled and he glanced down at the till, reaching to tear her receipt from the machine and toss it away.

"But I am free Thursday."

He heard the last words just barely. They were muffled by the sound of traffic and wind outside the open door. When he looked up, he just caught a glimpse of her slender fingers releasing the metal door frame and it slapped back into place with a bang and bell jingled again, now signaling the empty shop and the beginnings of a new race of thoughts through Hiccup's mind.

What did that even mean? She was free Thursday? Was that supposed to be some sort of signal she was actually interested in his stupid accidental pick up line? Certainly not. He was a nerd. He was an entrepreneurial engineer in grad school who was undefeated in the last three robotics championships and had pawned his father's friend out of a job at his declining record store to make ends meet and get out of his shabby apartment by his last semester. And he had glasses. She was not interested.

She'd had to have been teasing. Giving him something cruel in response to his remark so he might have false hope. He was too smart for that. Too smart for the punk with the blue dragon tattoo under her ear, too much eyeliner, and her soft blonde hair that was probably undyed and glowed in the sunshine outside.

Too smart to be fooled into wishing she'd come back tomorrow.

He was too smart for her games.

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Mom." He let her kiss his cheek and handed over the small brown paper bag of groceries she'd asked for, fighting off the flock of budgies that chirped around their heads upon his entrance to her house.

"Hello, dear. Thank you for these."

"No problem." He resigned himself to letting one blue-grey feathered bird perch on his shoulder as he followed her into the kitchen. It was a common occurrence to be attacked by some sort of animal in this house. His mom was—to everyone else's bewilderment and to her delight—a crazy cat lady. Only it didn't include many cats. Only one who kept spiders and bugs away from the bird cages outside, though she hardly left the animals in them anyways.

She let the birds have free reign of the living room, and even managed to become licensed to care for the rehabilitation of owls and other wild animals. Her home and the surrounding land was authorized as a sanctuary, which had confirmed to her neighbors and her ex-husband the distance of which she deviated from the mean of society. Hiccup didn't mind. He liked that about her, and he'd inherited her compassion for animals.

Now, she only kept one Great Horned Owl named Cloudjumper, who'd been with her since Hiccup was young. The large bird frightened him at first, when he'd been smaller. He remembered one time Cloudjumper had snatched his glasses right off his face, flying into the high branches leaving him more scared than hurt and crying in the grass behind the barn until Valka managed to coax him down. The bird dropped the lenses in front of his lap, cocking his head sideways in apology and pecking at Hiccup's shin.

In the kitchen, Valka stacked the cartons of blueberries in her fridge while Cloudjumper's talons clicked on the metal surface above, peeking over the rim of the fridge to watch her.

"How's school?" she asked.

He reached over to stroke the crest of the parakeet on his shoulder and it cooed its appreciation. "Good. I'm swamped with lab hours, though. Professor Thorston's got me teaching two three-hours sessions a week and grading half of his classes. Between my classes, work, and research…its crazy."

"You're still doing well though?" She looked at him now, moving to chop four apples into small bits for her parrots.

He nodded and reached over for a spear of a red delicious. "Yep, of course. Hey Mom, have you eaten today? You know you forget when you get caught up with keeping them happy."

Cloudjumper fluttered to the edge of the counter, watching his caretaker curiously. Neither of them seemed to mind that the bird was prancing around the surfaces of a kitchen. This was commonplace.

"I did, Hiccup. Don't worry," she said, waving her knife distractedly. "Goodness, you're as bad as your father."

At the mention of the man, Hiccup drew an unsure smile and Valka paused in her chopping to look up at him from under her short fan of lashes. Her face was tight, her lips pursed. "Well, how is he anyway?" she said stringently, going back to her cutting.

"He's good. I only saw him last week for breakfast, and he seemed to be in a rush, so we didn't talk much."

"I'm not surprised," she droned, scraping a small pile of apple chunks into a bowl. Cloudjumper glanced at its contents and clicked his beak several times, asking for his lunch.

"Mom…" Hiccup sighed sadly, finishing the last bite of his apple.

The Haddocks had separated when Hiccup was still a toddler. They had found existing together difficult, and Valka was sometimes too wild and radical for the straight-laced and single-minded Stoick. She was a vegan since her early teens. He would have red meat with every meal if he could. She saw the world as something to be cherished. He saw it as something to be conquered. She didn't mind not having a nine-to-five job if she loved what she was doing. He couldn't handle the instability. And then the pets had gotten in the way eventually.

It was interesting how much the little things mattered once they married that hadn't mattered during their college days.

A bigger wedge was driven between them when Valka opened her sanctuary, and the courts decided this type of environment wasn't in Hiccup's best interest and shifted custody to Stoick when Hiccup was just starting first grade. Hiccup wasn't sure who Valka had never forgiven: Stoick, the courts, or herself.

The woman let her owl walk up the length of her arm and perch on her shoulder. Hiccup's feathered friend pecked at his earlobe for a bite of his apple.

"Dispite his faults, there's one thing that's certain. He loves you," she said, picking up the bowl of apples.

"He loves you too," Hiccup said softly, sadly to her back while she walked into the next room.

He watched her green eyes grow bleary when she held out a hand of treats for the birds that hung from their perches above the windows.

She blinked for a few seconds and schooled her features. "I know."

After dinner, and a quick goodbye until next week, he left for home on his motorbike. He supposed it was one of the quirks of his character: the geek riding a motorcycle. But he'd fixed this one up when he was a boy at his uncle Gobber's suggestion, and since his busy hands had been occupied by twisting gears and greasing parts, he'd fallen in love.

It wasn't a big bike. It was sleek in black and chrome and long handlebars. And it was fast. That was probably his favorite part. Cars could never compare to this thing.

It had rained during his visit, so the pavement was slick and reflective and so he drove carefully, just easing the bike up to a stop sign.

As he passed through the intersection, another car whisked past him and drove a splatter of rainwater up his pants leg. Ahead of him, a small black figure bounded across the roads on all fours, the tiny animal hurrying to get out of the way of the giant vehicles. It pounced between the lanes, confused. Hiccup swerved and felt his tires lose traction on the ground and tried to gain balance again. He let the bike take him into the left lane rather than try and overcorrect. He skidded into the mushy grass, and tripped over his pedals to plant his feet and balance the motorcycle. He switched off the ignition and gasped finally, the fog of his breath warming his helmet. He let himself curse, and tugged off the weight from his shoulders, shaking out his hair.

He cursed again, looking over his shoulder at the white car that had passed, only seeing the glow of taillights disappearing around the bend in the road. Recent fear for his own life knotted his chest, and he blew out a long breath to unwind it.

A tiny mew had his eyes searching the ground. The cat that had caused the kerfuffle was curled in a wet bed of grass, near the drainage ditches that sloped low towards the trees on the edge of the road. It mewed again, and Hiccup drew a breath.

He wanted to leave. He wanted there to be any sort of acceptable excuse that would allow him to just leave the injured thing there and drive off. Everything in the adrenaline now pulsing through his veins said it was fine.

But instead he swung his leg over the bike and kicked the stand down. His sneakers squished into the stew of grass and mud, trudging over the to animal.

When he was close enough, it hissed and curled a limp tail protectively around its body.

"Hey buddy," he said, bending one knee into the damp dirt. He was close enough now to see how small it was. It was only a kitten.

Now the cat meowed and made a pained noise. Its front paws stretched into the grass in front of it and it pulled itself forward. Hiccup noticed the left back leg hung at a strange angle, twisted backward, and then he saw the red-black liquid pooling in the watery grass.

"Oh god…" He reached for the cat, who hissed again and gave a sharp screech of pain. "You're going to be alright, bud. Just…"

He lifted his sweatshirt over his head and rain began to fall again against the thin material of his t-shirt. He tucked the body of the thicker material around the kitten's, and nestled its front into the hood to shield it from the rain that was threatening to pour again.

"My mom can fix you up," he promised, lifting the soggy jet-black lump and standing.

The cat meowed. In pain, in protest, in gratitude? All of those? He mounted the bike again and snuggled the bundle of mangled feline between his knees, holding it firmly there. He hoped he wouldn't disturb the small thing too much when he started the ignition again, pushing hard to help the bike free from the marshy shoulder.

Rain pelted his helmet, making hollow sounds against the fiberglass. Dangerously, Hiccup shifted his eyes from the road to the wadded grey sweatshirt between his knees. He couldn't have just left it. Not hurt. Not to die.

It was only a few miles back to Valka's house, and when he slowed in her graveled driveway and tossed his helmet off again, the deep whine of his engine echoed along the length of the barn, signaling his arrival. He let himself inside the house, his soggy sneakers slapping against the oak floors.

"Mom!" he called, cradling the bundle close against the flock of birds that had descended upon him, curious as to why he was back so soon.

"What's wrong, son?" the woman said, bustling out of her bedroom. When she spotted the bundle in his arms, she gasped. "Oh dear. What happened?" She pushed back the damp material and revealed the kitten's small face. He meowed desperately at her and blinked a pair of weary green eyes.

"I think his leg got run over. He jumped in front of me and I swerved so I wouldn't hit him, and he jumped to the side. I think the car that was passing ran over him…I don't know but his leg is all mangled." Hiccup unfolded the rest of the shirt, holding the kitten's body in his palm. Crimson darkened a spot on the shirt, and his back leg looked even more gruesome up close. Hiccup felt a gasp get caught in his throat.

"I don't know if I can fix this…" Valka whispered, her fingertips under the kitten's chin.

"What?" His voice sounded more upset than he expected it to.

"He'll need surgery, and sedation. And he's losing blood fast. We'll have to take to him to a veterinarian."

"Mom!" Hiccup protested when she left the room, leaving him standing with a handful of the tiny dying cat.

He looked down at the pile in his hands. The sweatshirt was limp and no longer held the warmth he hoped to wrap the kitten up in to keep him comfortable. The cat's chin arched against his wrist and nuzzled his arm, his fur wet and sticky. Hiccup didn't give a second thought to dipping his nose down to the crown of the cat's head, between his ears. "Its going to be ok," he whispered. The cat purred and whined softly.

She was shrugging on her rain jacket when she returned. Cloudjumper hooted from the light fixture in the den. "I'll be back," she answered and Hiccup followed at her heels out to her car.

-O-O-O-

Cleaned and dry, the kitten's fur was much softer and fluffier, standing on end in a frizzy mass. Hiccup's slid his hand across the kitten's head, watching his little chest rising and falling.

The surgery was short, but the evening had grown long and Hiccup could feel his lids growing heavy with the length of the day.

They'd asked if he was the owner, and before he could stop himself, he answered yes. Just in hopes that the animal wouldn't be booted off to a shelter, not because he wanted to take him home.

Now he was in the little room where the kitten was sleeping off the anesthetic on a thin cotton blanket, his backside wrapped in thick bandages. His leg had been removed, completely crushed and unusable. It was weird to look at, but not entirely ugly. The doctor said he would learn to walk again in no time and probably be just as agile as any cat.

Hiccup turned when the door behind him opened. A nurse in forest green scrubs entered, and Hiccup instantly recognized the tail of the braid that fell over her shoulder.

"Oh," he said, his spine straightening. "Hi."

She smiled in recognition, but briefly. "Oh its you," she said. "Small world."

She turned for the counter mounted on the wall and set down the clip board she carried. "You're….Henry Haddock?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Most people pronounce it Hiccup."

He heard her snort and she scribbled something. "Ooook…Hiccup. I'm—"

"Astrid," he interrupted, and she turned over her shoulder to look at him suspiciously. "Not a stalker. It was on your card. At the record store."

She turned completely to face him and rested her hips against the counter, balancing the clipboard against her belly. "So the vet prescribed pain killers for your cat at…"

"Oh he's not mine," Hiccup said, looking down at the unconscious ball of fur on the table. He stroked his flank tenderly.

"You sure act like he is," she said. Her voice seemed just a hint softer. "He's going to need someone to take care of him."

He glanced back toward her and noticed how blue her eyes were under the heavy fluorescents above them. He pressed his hand against the kitten's head and sighed., looking back down to him. "Yeah," he sighed.

"Its important that he doesn't take the medicine on an empty stomach. And if you notice anything strange, bring him to us right away."

"Ok." He nodded his understanding.

"We'll wait until he wakes up to release him to you, so we can give him one last check over. And then you'll probably want to bring him in a few weeks from now to register him and get tags."

"Alright." He looked down at his digital watch. The harsh outlines of a three and two zeros made his eyes droop all over again. The date below made the corner of his mouth quirk upwards and he chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Its Thursday morning."

He looked up at her and she smiled. Her bangs fell into her eyes when she bent to scrawl something on the clipboard.

"You still free?" he dared to say.

"Don't press your luck, kitten boy."

"Yes ma'am."

-O-O-O-

AN: I disclaim any wrong information about cat amputees, should you be knowledgeable about such things. Also, I am EXTREMELY GRATEFUL for all the follows and the awesome reviews. I appreciate your response so much.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: WHOA! I am so completely shocked by the response this story has gotten. Since I stopped writing for Iron Man, I have struggled with staying interested in my stories because of the small response I would get. I don't want to say I write purely for the reviews, because that's totally untrue. But it does have a lot to do with it. Why would I post something if only me and another person will take the time to read it? I want what I create to be enjoyed, and I am SO HAPPY and EXCTIED about your response to this. I am truly wowed. I hope you'll get what you're expecting out of this story, and I think I've got some interesting things planned.

Side note, are any of my readers artists who would be willing to draw some fan art? PM me if so.

Without further ado, let's get on with it. Kind of middle-of-the-road feelings on this chapter, so you decde.

-O-O-O-

"There are different types of propulsion systems, and all of them work a little differently, but by a simple deviation of the thrust equation…." Hiccup scribbled little m's and v's onto the blackboard, notating subscripts beneath them with slashes. "…we see that propulsion is always a result of the mass flowing through the system and exit velocity of the gas."

He turned to see the blank faces of the few students who bothered to show up for lab today. Ruff scratched her braid behind her ear, her nose scrunched in confusion. Tuff was leaned back in his chair, open-mouthed. Snot stared at Hiccup challengingly, as if his solid D in the course would allow him to teach the class any better than Hiccup.

"Does anybody understand what I'm saying?" he asked.

"Nine point eight meters per second squared?" Snotlout said, looking convinced he'd answered the question correctly.

Hiccup groaned and lifted his palm to his forehead. "Someone kill me now." He didn't even try to mumble under his breath.

"Ok." Hiccup held his hands out, flattening his palms to the students as if to erase everything he'd just said. "Let's go back to the basics. Which is going to fall faster, a piece of paper, or a rock?"

Tuff's hand rose into the air.

"Yes?" Hiccup dared to ask.

"You should be asking which would fall faster: a rock, or Ruff's brain. I could get on board with that simulation."

The legs of Ruff's chair scraped the floor when she turned to lift her fist to her brother's face threateningly. "You don't even know what simulation means," she said.

"At least I can spell it."

"This is hopeless," Hiccup groaned, turning back to the board and wiping his sleeve across the carefully drawn lines of a thrust system and arrows indicating where propulsion came in and out from, smearing away his lesson and along with any likelihoods that any of these dolts would be passing.

His migraine was splitting when he showed up for work, and not helped when Gobber asked him to fix the belt on a record player someone had brought to the shop to be repaired. He was trying to steady the small screwdriver and hold wires out of the way with the other hand, squinting against the pain in his skull while Gobber chattered over his shoulder.

"I was thinkin', Hiccup…"

He tried to give an interested grunt.

"I just keep thinking you aren't happy here."

"Nah," Hiccup said, finally loosening the broken belt and tugging it free of the machine. "I'm perfectly happy. I love aura of this place, ya know? Filled with snazzy hipsters who always love to fill me in on how out of touch I am with culture. I mean, its great."

"Hipsters?"

"Nevermind." He fiddled with tightening on a new belt and Gobber continued.

"I was thinkin' maybe you'd like to work with your dad…at the mechanics shop…"

Hiccup's wrist twisted sharply. The tiny screws teetered and tumbled with tiny clinks into the darkness of the turntable. "Egh…Gobber, I…"

"It'll be good. You'll get to spend more time with him. He misses yeh…now that you're so busy with school and everything."

"I cannot imagine my father being sentimental over anything that isn't a lost boxing match." He gave up on the machine and looked at his father's friend full on.

"You're right," the man said, looking defeated.

"If you want to fire me, you don't have to make excuses."

"I'm not firing yeh! I'm honestly havin' your best interests in mind. It'd be good for ya, more geared toward your degree. No pun intended." He looked proud of his joke and Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Ok. I guess so. Do you really think this is going to be a good thing?"

Gobber shrugged and helped Hiccup to piece the turntable back together. "I don't know. But you and your dad need to make amends. It just isn't right you growing up like that. A boy needs a father."

"I've got a father. A father that couldn't be bothered to pay attention. A father too consumed with business deals. Its too late to be a kid again, and he's past having to be a dad."

"Just give it a shot. He might surprise you."

"Hasn't happened so far," Hiccup doubted.

"Just talk to him."

"Talking doesn't solve much. There's being proactive to a situation, and then there's meditating on it. I'm being proactive. Its called moving on."

"If you don't like it, you can come back here. Just give it a try."

"You make it too easy to stay, Gobber, really," he said when the man let go of the cover of the turntable, catching Hiccup's fingers beneath it.

-O-O-O-

_Henry. _The nametag on his new shirt read _Henry_ and it was currently in the cleanest state it would ever be in. He was completely unenthused about this day. The day he'd start working at one branch of his father's chain of auto shops. Not because he didn't want to work on cars, motorcycles, and all else for twenty joyous hours a week, but because he was subjecting himself to be completely ignored by the man who'd had half a hand in his creation.

This was the only con of the job. That and the fact that his shirt read _Henry_.

He would've taken this job throughout college, but didn't even consider asking his father, because _he was just too damn smart_. That was the only conclusion he'd come up with as to why his father overlooked him so often. Even when he'd been in grade school and lived with his father, their relationship had been distant. It was just the facts. Stoick was always busy, as president of his own company. He never attended any of Hiccup's competitions or science fairs, and when Hiccup would ramble about his latest finding, his dad would just nod disinterestedly. In undergrad school, it had been a blessing to get off on his own. But that didn't help bond them at all, and Hiccup couldn't be bothered to care, busy with the developments of adulthood. He'd grown up before his father's eyes, and he hadn't even been bothered to watch. Not because he was intimidated by the boy's tenacity to create and learn, but because he simply didn't know how to rein it in.

Well, now he'd be forced to. When Hiccup—or rather Henry—became the shining employee of the month.

Yeah, right.

His father had not even been there to welcome him on his first day. Another employee had said that he only came in a few times a week, splitting his time among the other shops in the area. Well, peachy. Gobber's plan wouldn't work out after all, and he'd just get a sweet job tinkering all day without having to chat aimlessly with customers or deal with a father who pretended he had an invisible son.

He tossed the unstained shirt into his hamper and tugged at the collar of his undershirt, turning to face Toothless, the kitten sprawled on the carpet of his bedroom floor.

He'd decided on the name when he realized the kitten's teeth were missing. They would grow back as strong and healthy adults' teeth, but for now, Hiccup bottle fed him and tipped several drops of the painkiller into the warm milk to ease the soreness that remained in his back leg.

He lowered himself onto the floor, on all fours in front of the little black lump. "Hi, buddy. You hungry?" He reached a hand up and stroked his side. The kitten purred and nudged his hand when he stopped.

"Let's get some milk warmed up for you."

Astrid, the pretty-veterinary-nurse-girl, had showed him how to prepare a bottle, and how to feed him properly.

He tucked the cat against his chest, carrying him into the kitchen with him. He cradled him in the crook of his arm while he ate greedily.

"Maybe tomorrow it'd be a good idea to take you to Mom's house so you'll have some company," he said while Toothless's eye drooped sleepily because of the medication.

"On second thought," he said. Toothless was disrupted and meowed his displeasure when Hiccup leaned forward to reach for the strip of paper upon which Astrid had scribbled her number. Purely for emergency purposes, she had said.

She answered his call, and he floundered a moment at the sound of her voice. She even _sounded_ pretty. "Eh…uh…Its Hiccup. From the vet? With the kitten?"

"Yes. I remember." He wasn't sure if she sounded happy about that fact or not.

"Well…I was just thinking about care for Toothless. And maybe thinking he'd like some company while I'm away. Especially right now. I made several trips home during the day today to feed him, but it was hectic. I just started this new job and…" She did not care about this. He could sense it. "What I mean is…would you mind watching him during the day? I mean, I'm sure you're busy because you've got a cool nurse job and everything. I could bring him to my mother's but she's a little eccentric, so I'm not sure if that would exactly work out…"

"Well…" She sounded iffy. Hiccup waited for her to refuse and willed his cheeks not to get any hotter. The more he focused, the more they did.

"I could do that," she said. "I work evening shifts at the animal hospital. So I'm home during the day most of the week. I could watch him for you."

"Really? Wow, that'd be great. Thanks so much. I appreciate it…um….Could I have your…address so I can drop him off in the morning?"

"Not so you can peep through my blinds?"

He spluttered. "No! What in the…? That's gross. Why would you…?"

She was laughing heartily on the other end of the line. "I'm kidding, nerd. But if you are planning that, just be aware that I know at least ten ways to chop…"

"Whoa. Calm down, lady. One amputee victim is enough for one week, thanks." He stopped her. He heard her laugh again, brighter this time. Did she actually sound…charmed?

He scribbled her address under her number and told her he'd be there around nine. He was giving a quiz tomorrow morning to those hopeless apes in his physics lab. Maybe that would teach them that books were for reading, not for propping up a bed post.

-O-O-O-

Astrid lived in a small house alone, just ten minutes from the animal hospital. It was raining when he arrived, but she was fresh-faced, her hair just brushed into a braid that trailed over her shoulder, over the logo on her torn band t-shirt, masking the face of the purple octopus printed on it. He realized he'd never seen her with short sleeves until now. She'd worn a jacket the first time he'd seen her, and at the hospital she'd had a sweater beneath her scrubs. But now, he saw that her lower arms were covered in tattoos in a array of colored inks. He picked out a cluster of daisies painted near her elbow, under a band of Celtic-looking symbols. Down the top of her arm, a powerful looking battle-axe was etched. She looked a lot more…scary…up close. But at the same time, he'd seen her a lot softer and rounded when he'd met her at the shop, and under the bright lights of the animal hospital in her work attire, she was nothing like this girl. And with it all, she was still beautiful.

She still made him fumble when he handed over a small sack of bottles and Toothless's medicine, and stumble over his words when he thanked her again.

-O-O-O-

No one passed the quiz that morning, and Hiccup braced himself for a barrage of questions from the professor that never came. Professor Thorston had placed his twins in the course because they'd failed twice before under other teachers. Now, Hiccup guessed it was proved to him that his children were just dumb. As for Snotlout, how had he passed the entrance exam at all?

When he traveled back to Astrid's house in an old station wagon he'd inherited from his mother, she answered the door and he smirked. She had Toothless in the crook of her arm, and a blue-feathered parrot perched on her shoulder.

This sight seemed all too familiar.

"You didn't tell me you had a bird."

"It wasn't important. She loves cats." She looked up and stroked the parrot's belly.

"Pretty kitty," it said, cocking its head sideways at Hiccup standing in the doorway.

Toothless reached out a paw towards him and he took it. "Hey, bud. Was this lady nice to you today? She give you any shots? Nurses do that sometimes, ya know. They're real jerks."

"I'm not a jerk," she said, "And your cat was the neediest pet I've ever taken care of. I didn't even get a good nap in."

He bent down to scratch Toothless behind the ears. "Come on, bud. What're you doing? We need her to like us." He peeked up at Astrid who smirked and quirked an eyebrow in a way that told him he had no chance, but he felt fueled to keep trying anyways.

She turned and walked further into the house, so he took it as an invitation to follow. Her house was plain with simple, generic furniture of somebody with a beginner's level job. The only personal item he saw was a pile of laundry on the floor at the foot of the couch and he tried not be distracted by it.

"He ate constantly. And slept. But mostly he played with Stormfly."

"Stormfly!" the bird cawed in response to her name. "Stormfly. Pretty bird."

He took Toothless from her arms and stroked a hand along his back. "She's cool," he said, nodding towards the parrot who fluttered her wings. "My mom keeps birds. She's runs a sanctuary for them."

"That's pretty cool," she said, turning to place Stormfly on the top of her cage at the edge of the living room by the largest window. "Do you need me to keep the cat tomorrow? I might have a few errands to run."

"I won't have anywhere to be til noon, so would you mind meeting in town somewhere to trade him off?" he asked, studying the tattoos along her arm again. The daisies crawled down her skin in a languid line, the stems ending in two separate leaves at the place where her thumb and forefinger met. "Wow…" he whispered, and she spun on him.

"What?" She was scowling now, and it made him step back.

"Oh…gee…" The backs of his knees bumped her end table.

_Gee?_

"God, you have a knack for staring." She was irritated. He searched around for Toothless's bag of medicine, ready to leave her before she punched him.

"I didn't mean to. You're just…really cool. I mean, I think you're a cool person." Of course by cool he meant pretty, and by pretty he meant he wouldn't mind sitting with her at a table for coffee one afternoon, and wouldn't mind watching her bored eyes as explained thrust propulsion to her because…someone needed to understand that stuff.

She planted her hands on her hips and Stormfly flapped to her shoulder again, looking surprisingly protective for a pint-sized parrot. "I'll meet you tomorrow in town at noon."

"K," he said, turning in an about-face for the door. "Sorry," he said, twisting back to her because his mouth just never knew when to stop running. "I was looking at your…" He gestured to her. "Ink." That was the cool term, right?

Obviously not, because she smirked in amusement, closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Its really…neat-o." His face fell into his palm and he groaned. "Gah…I'm an idiot. I'm leaving now."

"Ok." She stood watching him dig his hole, hands still planted on her waist.

"Bye."

"Goodbye."

"Yeah…" He threw a half-wave at her, still not turning.

"Remember that conversation we had on the phone yesterday? About the ten ways I could…"

"Right. Got it. Leaving." He finally swiveled, his sweaty palm slipping over the doorknob and struggling til he finally figuring out its simple mechanics through the pretty-tattooed-parrot-nurse-girl-fog of his brain.

His back pressed against her front door once he escaped, and he sighed. Toothless purred in his arms, as if he'd enjoyed the entire display.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Again….totally "Eh" about this chapter. I really don't think I got it right. These are really difficult character to right, believe it or not.

-O-O-O-

Oil splattered his face and he groaned. "Ugh…stupid…son of…" He shielded his face from the steady drip and pressed his hands against the underbelly of the car, searching for the ratchet on the ground that would tighten whatever he'd undone back into place.

With the leak conquered, he pushed himself out from under the car to wipe off his face.

The steady rumble of a fine tuned engine had him looking out towards the parking lot. A familiar Aston Martin steered smoothly up the drive, and Hiccup watched the huge red-bearded man unfold himself from the driver's seat.

"Hi Dad." He waved when his father was close enough to hear him, and he returned a cordial wave. "Hello, son."

Most fathers called their boys sons as terms of endearment. Hiccup's felt more like an association.

"Do you think you could help me? I need someone to hold the…"

His father breezed—or rather, thudded—past him. "Ask one of the guys," he said, waving a hand and entering the small part of the shop where the offices were.

Hiccup turned to look over the empty garage.

"Everyone's gone to lunch," he said to no one. He turned again, leaning forward to grab the door handle with a slick hand and pull it open. But he released it and let it slap back into place. "Ugh. Just forget it."

He slumped onto a bench, wringing a towel between his hands, damp with motor oil.

-O-O-O-

"I don't know why we try to plan these things out so elaborately. You know it always ends up just you and me and your famous raw Thai noodle recipe."

"I want things to be special," Valka said, sweeping the barn floor with a large push broom. She tossed one long braid over her shoulder, and Hiccup thought of Astrid. She'd like her. They'd both get along well.

He'd agreed to help her clean out the barn, but he hadn't agreed to get roped into a conversation about Thanksgiving weekend that was looming on the other side of next week.

Hiccup thumped the pitchfork into the new hay. "I always feel like crap when the holidays come around. Someone always gets left out, and I'm having to split my time between you and Dad so no one gets their feelings hurt."

"I was thinking of inviting him actually," she said casually.

Hiccup gaped. "Ok. Its official. You've lost it. You've gone looney." He tossed heapfuls of hay over his shoulder, as if the movements would erase what she'd just said.

"Its not like we're vehemently against each other, Hiccup. We can stand to be in the same room…"

"On a holiday that is all about friendly relations. It kind of a requirement to be friends."

"I want to be friends," she said, wiping a hand over her face. "I think we can be. Friends." She said the word like it was a seal, silencing any other thought that she had something different in mind.

Hiccup remembered when he was ten, he'd left a note in his backpack of clothes at his dad's house, with both of their names on it. He'd asked them to get back together, to just be friends again and live together like all the other moms and dads at his school. Because at ten, things seemed that simple.

"If you say so," he agreed. "But don't be surprised it he brings over a turkey or something that could offend you vegan sensibilities."

She chuckled softly. "I think I can handle it."

-O-O-O-

Toothless was growing teeth finally. Vicious teeth that nipped his toes in the middle of the night. And three heavy paws the pounded into his chest all too early in the morning.

He groaned and rolled onto his side. "Toothless…" he mumbled.

A loud meow responded. If he was awake, it seemed Hiccup had to be awake too. He searched blindly over the expanse of the bed for the kitten and pulled him up to tuck against his chest. "Five more minutes, k?" He patted the little animal's head and was almost instantly asleep again.

Toothless meowed his displeasure and poked a dagger-like claw to his shoulder. He meowed again, softer this time, as if that would coax his owner to rise.

"Stop it," Hiccup said flatly, defeated. There was no chance he would get the cat back to sleep, but he could at least stretch out his own waking moments.

Toothless wrestled against him until he was out from under his arm and able to pounce on his chest. Which he did. Repeatedly. Finally, he opened his eyes. "Ok, ok. Fine. I'm up."

He sat up and Toothless moved in a limpy-unbalanced dance to the edge of the bed, where he curled up, tucking his good back leg beneath him and closed his eyes.

"Ugh!" Hiccup flopped back down on the mattress and covered his eyes.

When he did rise, he called Astrid to ask her if he could drop the cat off at her house before he headed to class, and then to prepare his lab final.

"You know," she said, when he arrived at her doorstep. "Toothless is getting stronger and bigger now. I'm beginning to think there's another reason you keep asking for my help."

He held the cat limply in one hand, and he lifted the other scratch as his cheek nonchalantly. "Heh…well…no other reason, really."

Toothless mewed disbelievingly.

She reached for the cat and lifted him to cradle in her arms. "You sure about that?" Her voice sounded dry.

"Yeah," he said, dropping his hand, putting on his usual self-depreciating façade and tried to look convincing. "You're just a practical choice. I would never assume that maybe…" He gestured animatedly with his hands, shoulders shrugging up and down. "…you'd want to get coffee, or maybe even go with me to my mom's on Thanksgiving, because after all that falls on a Thursday. I'd never assume that, because obviously you'll have plans that day. So you're just a lady who's gonna watch my cat for me because he seems to like you."

"And do you?" she said, staring him down, petting Toothless's head. Her pale eyes seemed unreadable all of a sudden.

"Do I what?"

"Like me?"

He felt a weird fluttery feeling in his chest and let his shoulder's draw up and down again. His mouth went dry.

"Uh…"

"Its ok to say no. Though I'm gonna be really confused about your weirdo behavior every time you look at me. Or maybe…you're just a weirdo." She shrugged indifferently. That's what bothered him. She generally looked _indifferent _to what the answer to this question would be.

He swallowed.

"What if…I don't want to say no?" That was probably the most unexpected answer he could give. Letting the ball still rest in her court. He was trying to figure out the rules of her game and play along. Hopefully he'd moved right.

When she didn't say anything, he ducked just slightly, shyly. She mirrored him, forcing him to hold eye contact. She did that a lot, he noticed.

She squinted at him, and he backed away just a fraction more as if he'd physically felt her small movement like a pinch. Her eyes were intense, searching and blue like the shore. He watched, trying to read something there. But she was too good at hiding. Good at concealing herself but flaying him out like a fish bone.

Then her shoulders relaxed again and her spine went straight, taut like a bowstring.

He waited for her to hit him. Or kiss him. Or plop Toothless back into his hands and tell him to leave. He winced at the thought of any of those responses.

"You'll pick Toothless up at four, right? I've got somewhere to be." Her voice was hard, and he didn't ask questions.

"Yeah. Yeah, four." He nodded, fumbling.

"K. Goodbye, then." Her palm flattened against the doorframe, and she leaned forward. He stepped back on instinct.

His eyes flickered to the tattoo on the underside of her arm. A Viking ship, with the stern and the bow rounded upwards and shaped like a dragon's tail a head. Little scribbling of lines like waves were inked under it.

"Goodbye," he gulped, and nearly fell down her porch stairs.

Alone in a lecture hall later that day, he scribbled a half-hearted depiction of the Viking ship tattoo on the blackboard. He should've just come out and said it. Said that he liked her, and not danced around stupid answers. He should've just told her what he felt. But the look on her face didn't seem like she would've been pleased if he had said yes. What was that even supposed to mean?

Didn't she care?

The truth was he had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't ever really asked a girl out. He hadn't gone after them in grade school, or even undergrad school. He was too focused on his studies, and saw the brainless imbeciles that had chased girls all over campus, and what fools they made of themselves. It wasn't worth it when girls made similar fools of themselves, too.

But this girl. She was different. Somehow, she put him off and drew him close all at the same time. She was just her. Not anyone else, and not losing her ground for any reason. She scared him and intrigued him all at once.

And so why had he answered her question with a riddle, just the way she'd asked it?

He stared up at the dragon-ship on the board, arms crossed over his chest. He'd just have to do it. Put himself aside and just say it. He liked her. What was telling her that going to hurt? Going to change? She thought he was a nerd and a weirdo anyways. This would just give her an excuse to get him off her doorstep. Was that how this all fit together?

A professor tugged open the door, breaking his reverie. He wiped away the ship, and pretended to be practicing equations.

When he returned at four, she was on the stoop strapping a pair of roller blades onto her feet, clad in a red and black plaid skirt that fell attractively at her thighs, over shredded black tights and striped socks that ended mid-shin. Her t-shirt was plain black and fit nicely, with no distracting band logo.

"You're late," she said, tying off her laces.

"What's all this?" he gestured at her with a smile. Toothless bounded through the open door and wobbled and fell down the stairs to land at his feet. He seemed unscathed, though, purring and circling his ankles.

"I play roller derby on Fridays," she answered, her voice quick and sharp, indicating she didn't have time to talk. She rose onto her skates and turned to pull the front door shut.

She glided past him, her skates skittering over the smooth paved driveway.

"Hey," he said, turning and extended a hand as if he were going to grab her arm to get her attention.

She marked an invisible boundary when her skates stopped several yards away from him, leaving a wide space that was neither friendly nor intimate.

She brushed her bangs behind her ears and twisted easily, facing him. "What?" she huffed, trying to look distracted.

"What you asked earlier today…"

"Forget it." She bent to adjust something, but he guessed it was so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I wanted to talk about it."

"I'm going to be late." She planted her hands on her hips again and he looked down to her long, slender fingers.

"What I meant to say was…When I didn't want to say no…I wanted to say yes."

Her lips quirked into an uncaring smirk and she tossed her head making her braid jump over her shoulder. "But you didn't."

He opened his mouth to speak again, raising a hand, but he froze. A new flurry of thoughts entered his mind. Now he get it. She really _didn't _care. She just wanted an answer. She wanted him to admit it to her, and to himself.

"Why didn't you?" she said softly, almost a whisper, but still with the edge in her voice.

Astrid, the girl with black eyeliner and tattoos, with a hard line of a smile and an even harder exterior; she wanted labels. She wanted him to speak up and stop stringing her along. Because she wouldn't be. She was too autonomous for that. She would not give thought to anything less.

He sighed and lowered his arm, lowered his eyes. "Oh…"

"I've got to go," she said, skating backwards, away from him.

He looked up again to watch her. She twirled on the toe of one skate, facing the street now, her arms pumping to gain momentum before she sped around the tree line.

He groaned and let his shoulders slump.

Toothless nudged his ankle. Hiccup looked down at him. "Women are frustrating," he told the cat, who reaching his paws up his pants leg, indicating his urgency that dinner be served before humanly possible.

-O-O-O-

AN: If you're not wanting to hunt me down by the end of this chapter, this story decided it needed a playlist. If you go on 8tracks and find the playlist titled "Turntable." tagged as httyd and hicstrid, that's it.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I wasn't expecting this today, but it rained and then I just wrote and…*collapses*. Please enjoy the longest chapter of this story yet.

-O-O-O-

He'd finally made it in here. Into the royal inner quarters that was his father's office. The behemoth of a man sat at his desk in a navy-colored business suit, his hands folded over his round belly, as if he were listening to a client. Hiccup's filthy boots seemed leaded against the thin carpet, and he was sure the stench of motor oil on his skin was offending the clean air.

"So…Mom…wants you to come over for Thanksgiving," he blurted, wringing his fingers. "Whachathink?" He gave a nervous smirk.

"She does?" His eyes softened above his beard, just slightly. Just enough.

"Eh…yeah…That's what she said."

"Erm…yes, I want to be there. Of course. What…what time?" He was searching for a pen now, patting the outer pockets of his jacket.

"At four." Hiccup shifted. This was even more awkward than he'd expected. Was his father…excited? Maybe that was too far of a stretch, but he at least looked moved.

"Ok. I'll tell Natalie to write it down for me, and yes, I'll be there." His hand shook the mouse of his computer to wake it. "Should I bring something?"

"Well…she's still not eating meat. And she's on this raw foods kick now. So I think she'll be doing most of the cooking…or not-cooking. I'm bringing green beans, though…so…" Hiccup shrugged.

"I'll figure something out."

"Ok, well…bye…" He backed out of the office, searching behind him for the doorknob. "See you…Thursday."

"Hiccup," his father boomed, distracted from the computer and focused on him now.

"Yeah?" he said, turning sharply to face him.

His father's shoulders moved up and down again into a bowed line. "I'm…I'm _glad_…" He choked out the word. "…that you're working here."

"Oh," Hiccup said. "Um…me too, Dad. Thanks."

"Good." Stoick nodded. It was difficult to read the expression on his hairy face.

"Great." Hiccup turned again and pulled the door open and shut behind him.

Did that really just happen?

-O-O-O-

"Ok, try _this." _He poked the green bean into Toothless's face. The cat sniffed it half-heartedly and sat back on his haunches.

"Come on, this one's better. I promise."

Toothless turned his face away and licked at his paw.

"You are no help." Hiccup bit into the green bean himself and wrinkled his nose. "Yeck. Maybe you had the right idea, bud."

Toothless meowed, as if to agree that he was indeed, superior. Hiccup dumped the platter of green beans and shrugged. "Oh well…it won't even matter what I bring anyways, if its just me and Dad eating it."

The cat meowed again, brushing up against Hiccup's shins. "Yes, of course I thought about inviting Astrid. But she's a little ticked off at me right now, don't ya think?"

He felt Toothless's wet nose press into the material of his jeans.

"No. Definitely not. The idea in itself it ridiculous. She probably has plans."

Toothless clawed at the hem of his jeans, sticking and unsticking his paws.

"You are relentless, you know that?"

-O-O-O-

She had grown attached the Toothless over the few weeks she'd been watching him.. But Hiccup was different. Hiccup was weird. And nervous. And silly. And…she'd admit it to herself…he was sort of strangely attractive because of all of that.

She didn't want to be told he liked her. She'd spent enough time being tolerated by people, enough time trying to prove herself to those around her that eventually she'd realized the only person she could rely on was herself. So crushes were not on her agenda.

If he wanted to ask her out, she'd accept. But that was the difficult part. Forcing him to ask her out.

If he couldn't come out and say it, then she wouldn't waste time.

She slid the chair out form under the small desk where nurses completed their paperwork, and rose.

"Hey." One of her co-workers caught her arm. "Someone delivered this for you." The nurse handed over a small cluster of daisies, wrapped in clear cellophane that crinkled beneath Astrid's fingers.

"Oook…" she said, looking over the bunch as if they might be poisonous or have a weapon stuffed within them. "Weird." She shrugged. But she nodded her thanks to her co-worker anyways, and then a thought struck her. Looped around the ribbon that held the flowers together was a note, handwritten in spidery handwriting.

"I'm really bad at this stuff. So here's some cliché flowers. Sorry," it read.

And she smiled.

When she was off duty, she returned to her car and searched for her cellphone in her satchel. It occurred to her that in the weeks since she'd met him, she had never called him. He had called her several times to confirm she could watch the cat, or to cancel, but she had never contacted him. It felt weird to stare at his number, still unfamiliar and not saved into her contacts list. Not quite part of her life yet.

She pressed her thumb against the glowing digits, finally, and lifted the phone to her ear. His voice sounded sleepy when he answered, and she suddenly realized the lateness of the evening.

"Doth the Lady Astrid accept-eth my peace offering?" he answered.

She shook her head. He was so weird.

"She could be convinced to," she replied.

"Isn't that what peace offerings are for? Convincing you to see things my way?" he joked.

"Oh, I thought you were ceding to see things from my perspective. Like finally having the guts to ask me out."

He sighed and chuckled softly into the speaker.

"So are you going to?" she said, waiting.

"I could be convinced to." He said and she let a short laugh escape her throat.

"I could be convinced to ask you to my mom's Thanksgiving party that may or may not go awry. And in this way, I would not have to suffer through awkward hours of ex-husband-ex-wife-chit-chat by myself."

"Your proposition is intriguing. Could I suggest a condition?"

"Of course, milady."

"Should said chit-chat get too awkward and too, as you say, awry, we leave for ice cream."

"Ice cream could be arranged. Purely as a getting-to-know-you-exercise, of course."

"Oh, of course."

She sat a moment, practically hearing the gears in his brain turning on the other line. It was a struggle for him to flirt this long; she understood. Flirting was always a frivolous exercise to her, reserved for playground kids and people who saw themselves entitled to a relationship. Why couldn't people just say what they meant? Yet, here she was.

"Goodnight, Hiccup," she said finally.

"Goodnight, Astrid."

-O-O-O-

When he picked her up, she was wearing a red dress with black and white plaid stripes printed across it, over a pair of black tights that he assumed were the norm for her; shredded and dotted with holes. The dress was worn and maybe a couple seasons out of style. He got the idea she didn't dress up too often. No fault there.

Her hair was pulled into an elaborate braid that resembled the tines on a fish's skeleton, tied off with a black ribbon. And he couldn't stop staring.

He shrugged uncomfortably in his own button down shirt, and told her she looked pretty. She just smiled and pulled her usual red hoodie over her shoulders, hiding the tattoos on her arms.

"My mom won't care. She'd probably think it was edgy," he told her while he walked with her to his ugly station wagon.

"I think its polite," she said, sliding into the passenger's seat.

He noticed her quiet mood, the way she sat buried in her sweater, staring out the window as they drove. But he didn't mention anything. He chalked it up to nerves, because his were out of control at the moment. Had it been a good idea to invite her to hang out with his divorced parents on the first date? Definitely a bad idea. Was this a date? He didn't really know. All that felt right was turning the car around and taking her up on the ice cream she'd mentioned so they would spare themselves the humiliation they were currently barreling towards.

Before he knew it, he was veering for his mother's driveway, slowing to a stop and throwing Astrid a smile that tried to be confident.

"Fair warning. She's a crazy bird lady. Like the one in Mary Poppins. Times ten," he said.

She nodded. "I have a parrot, and I'm a veterinary nurse, you forget."

"Alright." He shrugged and walked her to the door. He didn't wait to knock, and was not greeted by a swarm of fluttering feather like he'd thought. The house was spotless, void of animals except for Cloudjumper who pounced along the back of the sofa.

"Whoa." Astrid gasped at the huge speckled owl.

"Told you," Hiccup said, drawing a hand nervously over the scruff of his neck.

"Your mom is a badass, dude," she observed in a low whisper, smiling wildly.

He gave a chuckle, and Valka appeared from the kitchen. "Hiccup! Who's this?" She leaned up to kiss her son's cheek in greeting and pull Astrid into a hug, even before she was introduced.

"Mom, this is my friend Astrid."

The blonde girl showed no signs of discontent with his answer, so he decided it was ok.

"Ooh, nice to meet you dear." She nudged her son with her elbow and grinned. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"You too," Astrid answered politely.

"Dad's not here yet?" Hiccup asked. "And what did you do with the birds?"

"I've put them in their cages for today," the woman said, wringing her hands on the dishtowel she carried. It was weird. Valka was never a domestic. "I thought it was best. Your father did say he was coming?"

Hiccup nodded. "Yeah. That's what he said. At four."

A low rumble sounded behind them, outside, making the house shudder slightly as if indicating the oncoming of an army. "That'll be him, then," Valka said, moving to stand at the door. "Why don't you show Astrid around, Hiccup?" She shooed them off, and Hiccup shrugged uncertainly when Astrid raised an eyebrow at him.

She followed him into the kitchen, which was decorated in antique whites and blues, small and bright like a typical farmhouse kitchen she would see on television.

"I like her," she confirmed, her smile gleaming.

"She's a hoot." Hiccup tried not to laugh at his unintended joke, but Astrid did for him. In the other room, his parents were talking softly. He couldn't eavesdrop on the conversation, but no one had started a shouting match yet so he let himself relax against the counter, leaning back on his hands.

She slid beside him, close enough him to catch the scent of her shampoo. He felt her palm press over his hand on the edge of the sink.

Not quite holding his hand, but _definitely _close enough to make his heart leap to his throat.

He let himself just feel the warmth of her hand for a few seconds. She was soft and her fingers were long and slender like an athlete's. He glanced over at her, and her grin was so confidant and pleased with herself that he had to return it.

When his parents entered the kitchen, her hand fell. His mother was saying something about meeting Hiccup's guest, and Stoick smiled genuinely at this new girl.

Hiccup felt immediately nervous all over again. Why were they both acting so _werid? _Today of all days. His mom had cleaned the house, and his dad was smiling.

He wondered what type of ice cream Astrid liked best.

He wanted to touch her hand again when she preceded him into the dining room, but he didn't. His father pulled his mother's chair out for her, and she seated herself in one graceful motion. Astrid pulled her own chair out and Hiccup slumped into his.

"So, Astrid," his mother began, passing around a dish. "Are you in school?"

Astrid shook her head. "No. I'm a nurse, actually. A veterinary nurse."

Valka's eyes widened. "Really? Hiccup didn't tell me that."

"I met him the night he brought Toothless in," she said.

"Of course, if you want my opinion, there are veterinarians who are the worst sorts of people."

Hiccup choked. Not the veterinarian speech again.

Valka continued. "But there are good doctors, and they serve a purpose. For cases like Toothless where I just wasn't able to help. And you, dear, are without a doubt the good sort, I'm sure. Hiccup told you I run a sanctuary for injured animals?"

"Yes. I thought so, when I saw your owl. He's beautiful by the way."

Valka beamed. "He thinks so too," she joked and Astrid laughed along.

"This is great, Val," Stoick commented, nearly halfway through his heapful of mashed potatoes already.

_Val? _Hiccup's brows knit together as he ate in silence.

"Oh, thank you," she said fondly, and turned to Astrid again. "Do you have family nearby, dear? I wonder how Hiccup charmed you into eating dinner with us on a day like today. Certainly you had another get-together to attend."

Hiccup didn't see her, but felt Astrid bristle just slightly. "No. It was pretty quiet this year, actually," she said smoothly.

"Well, we are glad to have you." She reached for the girl's hand to pat it warmly. After a pause in conversation, she spoke again, changing the subject. "Did Hiccup tell you how he earned his nickname?"

Hiccup's eyes snapped upwards from his plate. "No, Mom. Not today," he pleaded, his eyes rolling in exasperation. She loved telling this story. Especially when it was sure to embarrass him most.

"No, _Hiccup_, you didn't," Astrid said, turning on him with a sly grin. He tried his best to glare at her. The lady. She was cold as ice.

"It really isn't that great of a story, actually. We don't need to rehash all of that…" Hiccup tried.

"He was in the forth grade," Valka began and Hiccup groaned, the legs of his chair squeaking against the floor. Astrid giggled behind her hand already.

"Well, you tell the story Hiccup," she offered, as if she were being gracious. Astrid giggled again. Stoick hummed a low chuckle from across the table.

"Ugh…it was my first science fair," he admitted, sending an irritated glare in his mother's direction. Valka just chortled.

"I was doing some stupid experiment with bubbles." He waved his hand to move the story along. "Experimenting with their density, how long they could stay in the air, all that stuff. I'd drop in lemon juice, or vinegar, different stuff like that. Anyways, not important. Do I really have to….ugh, Mom." Valka's eyes with wide with mirth. "Well…some jerk put soap in my apple juice at lunch, and I was…._burping_ bubbles the entire rest of the day."

A laugh bubbled from Valka, and she tried to cap it with a hand over her mouth in her son's defense. "I'm sorry, son, but you were adorable when I picked you up, awake all evening long with the hic…hic…hiccups…" She laughed aloud now, and Stoick rumbled after her.

Astrid's tom-boyish chuckle sounded beside him, trying to hold herself together, but apparently not trying hard enough. On purpose he was sure.

Hiccup's arms crossed. "I really don't think its funny. I mean, that kid was a bully…" He looked at Astrid, features set and scowling at his family. "I can't believe you….think its…" He let his smile crack when Astrid gave an indecorous snort. "…funny."

He chuckled at her, watching her hands hold her belly when she realized her slip and laughed even more wildly. Valka leaned a hand over on Stoick's shoulder to steady herself and catch a breath, their laughter mingled like a harmony. He let himself laugh finally, seeing the twinkle in Astrid's eye when she caught his glance.

After dinner, they were volunteered to wash up while Valka and Stoick went out to watch the birds in the barn.

Hiccup was scrubbing the plates clean while Astrid fed bits of meat to Cloudjumper who was perched on the edge of a counter.

"Your parents are great," she said offhandedly.

"They're both a little bananas. I don't know why they split, honestly. They kinda work together, sometimes." He stacked the dishes upright to dry. She made a humming noise in acknowledgment. When he turned back to look at her, she was leaned against the wall of the small kitchen, worrying the little strings on her hoodie between her fingers, watching them twist and untwist.

Cloudjumper bounded off of the bar, onto a nearby chair and to the floor, waddling away.

"Hey," he said. "You ok?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine," she said, not looking up.

He didn't have to move far in the small space. He reached to touch her elbow with his fingertips. Her hoodie was comfortably warm and he had to stop himself from grasping her further.

Now she did look at him, and he saw her sea blue eyes swimming. His grip on her elbow tightened reflexively.

"Hey," he said again, gently, daring to step closer to her.

"Thanks for inviting me," she said, swallowing up the emotion glinting in her eyes and the lump in her throat.

His hand lifted from her elbow, to do what he wasn't quite sure. To brush the hair from in front of her eyes. To tip her chin up gently so he could watch her. To hold her hand.

Instead, it hung there between them, uncertain. He made a fist, curling his fingers in safely. Not to touch. Not to pry. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

His mother's laugh echoed around the corner and he backed away, banging a few pots around noisily to break the tension, if only for his own benefit.

Stoick and Valka appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. Their cheeks were red from the cool air outside. Or something.

"Well, almost done," he said a little too loudly. "I think we'll leave after this. I've got some things to…take care of so…"

Ordinarily, his mother would've called his bluff. She would've asked him to stay a while and talk, or pulled out some memory book, or even asked for his help with the birds. But instead she said, "Alright, son. We'll see you later. It was lovely to have met you, Astrid."

_We'll? _What was going _on?_

"You too," he heard her reply evenly.

In the car, she was quiet again. That morning he'd thought she'd just been one of those types to not be very chatty while driving. The kind that watched the scenery pass, or listened to the steady beat of a song on the radio. She seemed to be that type. But he could tell something was off. She'd nearly started crying in the kitchen, and while she was amazing at hiding herself, Hiccup was persistent.

He passed the road leading to her tiny house, and this caught her attention. "Where are you going?" she rushed, glancing over her shoulder at the passing sign.

"I'm kidnapping you," he said flatly, eyes on the road.

"Wha…? What? Hicccup!" she protested, reeling to face him.

"You said you wanted ice cream."

"No I…not right now. I said if we…take me home, now!" she demanded.

"Can't. That would defy the definition of the word 'kidnap.'"

She huffed loudly, almost angrily and flattened her arms over her chest. He thought she might start to kick and scream if he didn't find an open grocery store soon. But she was stridently silent and statue stiff until he parked and dragged her inside one empty corner store manned by one lonely boy at the counter.

"Pick something." He gestured to the array of frozen treats in the upright freezer. Her finger jabbed forcefully at a tub of double chocolate fudge ice cream, and he plucked it from its shelf and thrust it into her hands.

She glowered at him, accepting the ice cream as if it weighed a ton, her shoulders bowing and her eyes threatening.

He just grinned, satisfied, and led her to the counter to pay. The attendant gave them a halfhearted wave and happy-holidays-wish as they left, which Astrid ignored completely and Hiccup returned enthusiastically.

"You're infuriating," she wasted no time telling him once they got back inside his car.

"No, I'm ingenious," he corrected, pointing two shrink-wrapped set of plastic ware at her nose. "Now hold these."

She snatched them.

He drove until he'd lost himself, turning onto a graveled road that took them further from the lights of town, further from familiarity and void of places Astrid could hide herself.

When he finally stopped, she turned to face him again, her seat creaking. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "But I do know that this ice cream is going to be ruined if we don't eat it now. So…would you care to tell me what almost had you in tears in my mother's kitchen?"

"You have the poorest social skills of anybody I know," she hurled, and he just shrugged off the insult.

"Maybe. But I'm not the one putting up walls, now am I?"

She didn't look at him but stabbed her spoon into the center of the open container of softening ice cream between them. "Why do you even care?" She swallowed a small spoonful and attacked again, this time with more force. He followed behind, curling ice cream slowly onto the bowl of his spoon.

"Because, I'm supposed to, aren't I?"

She was silent again, but relaxed. Her breathing slowed and she didn't seem so much like a caged dragon warring beside him.

"I wasn't crying," she lied. Her voice was tiny, and she took a slow and deliberate spoonful. "You're family is just really nice. And I haven't seen a lot of that."

"What do you mean?" He watched her eyes.

"I grew up without all of that. I grew up with an uncle, not a mom and dad. And then when he gave me up to foster care, things just weren't great." She shrugged, and the soft fur on her hood moved with her. "I guess that's why I got upset. I haven't ever really had holidays. At least not with everyone laughing like that." Now she smiled, but Hiccup's gaze didn't break. "Your mom is really sweet, Hiccup. And your dad just wants the best for you. I don't know…I'm rambling now. I'm just really glad you invited me."

Her smile and her eyes were sad when they flickered up to his, but he didn't try to poke any laughter from her. He just watched her. Held her searching gaze like she always held his.

"So," he finally said. "This was supposed to be a getting-to-know-you-exercise."

"I guess it worked," she said with a tired laugh.

It took only half an hour to find their way back to society. Astrid held the tub of ice cream in her lap, slurping up the last bits.

Hiccup drove quietly, thinking over all Astrid had said. He hadn't ever _not loved _his father. It was just difficult to sometimes when there was never communication. Never an open pathway. But he could try. Maybe things would somehow unfold differently than he'd always had them planned. If they could both remove the yokes they'd saddled on the other, maybe they'd be able to see something they hadn't before.

Astrid's braid was loose and frizzed from a long day when he dropped her off. She whirled on him once they'd ascended the steps of her house.

She sank her fist into his shoulder and he winced, inching backwards.

"What the…? Why would you _do _that?"

"That was for kidnapping me," she said, eyes fierce and harsh all over again.

She reached forward and wound the collar of his shirt in her fist. He tensed, setting his jaw and squinching his eyes closed. But the kiss on his cheek, soft as bird feathers and as smarting as lightening had his eyes opening wide to look up at her, staggered.

"That was for everything else," she murmured before bustling inside.

-O-O-O-

"I'm glad you came," she said, leaning a hand against the doorframe. Stoick's beard was redder under the dim light of her porch. Beneath the thick strands, she could see his mouth smiling.

"I am too." He nodded deliberately. The way that told her things were certain and set in stone. Unchanigng and steady. The way that told her he could've been a king or a diplomat in a past life.

"I…" She began, arching forward, but recoiled again. "I am sorry for any…hurt that I've caused. We've both been hard, and difficult." She searched the ground with wide eyes for words, but his fingers beneath her chin silenced her.

Her eyes lifted to his.

"All this time," he said, shaking his head to clear away the words she'd been trying to speak. "All this time, I still look at you. And all I can see is the day you left."

She glanced away, wanting desperately to pull back. To not cause any more hurt than she'd already done. This had all been a mistake. It had been wishful thinking, and twenty years had not been able to mend things. It wouldn't be fixed now.

His hand moved, his strong and nimble fingers finding the apple of her cheek and resting there. "All I can see…is that you are as beautiful as the day I lost you."

She hadn't heard herself take a breath, but felt the warm tear that dripped over her lashes and splashed onto his thumb where it was stroking her skin.

And then his boots were shuffling forward, making hollow noises on the thin floor. She became aware of how close he was now, and something about that nearness made her need to hide and retreat wane to nothing. She couldn't formulate anything else to say, no more reasons or excuses about why this would just never work. He was close enough now for her slim figure to fit against him. And he was exactly the gentle giant she remembered.

His lips were warm and tender when they met hers, and she rose on tip toe to match him.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sort of weird time jump in this chapter, but you'll like it I promise. I think I am the queen of weird time jumps, actually. Also, nobody caught my 'banana split' joke in the last chapter. I didn't even see it until I was reading through after I already posted. Hiccup says, "They're both bananas. I don't know why they split." I didn't intend for this to be a joke, but I about died laughing when I read it.

Also, story time. There's a guy that comes into the coffee shop I work at and he looks and sounds exactly like Jay Baruchel. And his name is Wolf. I mean…come on. How awesome is that?! Every time he comes in, I get all chatty just so he'll hang around awhile, because I like to hear him talk hahaha.

-O-O-O-

"I am _not _doing that!" She stalked away, arms swinging.

"It isn't scary!"

"I'm not scared of scary! I'm scared of dying and bleeding and having my skull crushed. That's what I'm worried about."

"Why would you be scared of _that?" _he said as if it were ridiculous.

She spun and cocked an eyebrow at him. She gestured at the motorcycle behind him. "That thing causes more deaths than all other vehicle injuries."

"Now I highly doubt this. I've never shed blood, I've never had my skull crushed, and I certainly haven't ever died riding a motorcycle. Just give it a try."

"No way." She crossed her arms, but was forced to drop her stance when Hiccup plopped a helmet over her head. She squeaked and then growled in frustration, and Hiccup laughed at the way her voice echoed outside of the plastic.

"You're always forcing me to do stupid things!" she shouted, but her voice was muffled and he laughed aloud at her.

He tugged on his own helmet and mounted the bike, sticking a scrawny leg out to balance it once he kicked the stand up. He motioned for her come on and she dug her hands into her hips, planting her feet. He shrugged and revved the engine, letting the bike roll a few inches forward, teasing her.

She leapt forward, making to grab him as if that would keep him in place against the force of the bike. Her hands grabbed his waist and she hauled herself onto the seat behind him.

The side of her fist slammed harshly into his shoulder and he glanced back her with a grin.

Their helmets booped against each other.

"Don't do that ever again!" she shouted and he laughed, pointing to his helmet and shaking his head. He reached down and grasped her hand where it was clenched into his t-shirt, and patted her gently, trying to get her to ease up. When she didn't, his hands fell to the handlebars and he warned her with another rev of the engine.

He took off slowly and felt her hands fist tighter into his shirt. He moved slow, but not for long. He followed the speed limits of her neighborhood, taking a few laps around the block before finding a quiet and long road to speed up.

She seemed to relax a little. At least her arms weren't cutting off air getting to his lungs anymore.

On the long stretch of road, he slowed just a bit lifted the handlebars slightly so the front tire bounced against the pavement. He wouldn't actually finish the trick. Not with Astrid riding for the first time.

Her fist collided with his shoulder again.

"Do it and I will _destroy_ you!" she screamed. He'd definitely heard that. But it didn't stop his shoulders from shaking with laughter.

Even in late afternoon, the sky was darkening with grey clouds churning above them with oncoming rain. It didn't blur the colors of the sky though, streaked in dingy indigo and burnt orange. After awhile, Astrid's arm loosened around him and the hard shell of her helmet pillowed against his back.

He smiled.

They hadn't discussed any parameters yet, and Thanksgiving was a week ago. He wondered if _just friends _wrapped their arms around each other like this, or leaned this close. But he found that he didn't really care. It was now, and that was nice enough.

When they slowed again in Astrid's driveway, she unfolded herself and pulled the helmet from her face. With both feet on the ground again, she turned to look at him.

"That was ok," she said, tossing her braid that was now pressed flat.

"Oh, come on. You loved it." He reached over and poked her side. She grabbed his hand just before he pulled away and twisted slightly, yanking him close. He thought she was going to hit him again, but she kissed him instead.

He was certain _just friends _didn't do _this._

His knees turned to jelly almost immediately, and he had to think consciously all of a sudden about how to make his muscles work to keep standing. He grabbed her shoulders, trying to steady himself and pull her closer all at once.

The kiss was hard but not rough, slow but not long, and when she pulled away, he got a woozy weird feeling like he'd been underwater for too long.

His breath shot from his lungs in a gust. "Are you trying to…?" he started, but she was on him again, this time pressing a softer kiss at the corner of his mouth. Her lips smacked softly and he felt a buzzing on his skin. He got the feeling she was trying to press him to reciprocate.

His hand moved to curl around her braid, smoothing down it and tugging it just slightly, unconsciously, to pull her closer. He watched the golden strands bend and coil around his fingers before he tilted his mouth to hers, gentler than she had kissed him at first.

Her lips were full and dry and warm and firm on his.

His were probably thin, wet, and unsure.

He pulled away shyly, ducking.

Her breath burned against his cheek.

"I haven't kissed many girls," he admitted, uneasy. "Only like, two…and one was a dare, so..."

He heard her chuckle softly before her palm pressed against his cheek, turning his face upwards again.

Their lips brushed, barely and he mirrored her breathy laugh when a bolt of delight that shot through him.

"Could've fooled me," she whispered.

His hand closed around the back of her neck, steadfast now. "Well. I guess I should ask you to be my girlfriend now," he said, "Like you've been pestering me to."

The heel of her hand hit his stomach and he released her and backed up.

"Y'ouch! You are so _violent."_

"I wasn't pestering. I was waiting around for that big head of yours to get with the program," she teased, hands on her hips.

"Is your physical abuse supposed to illustrate your agreement?" He still rubbed at his side. When her fingers pressed over it, though, her touch was like a balm.

She was smiling now, eyes bright.

"Sure," she said, bending forward and arching up kiss his cheek sweetly before turning for the house.

He watched her, her braid bouncing over her shoulder in a loose wave. His fingers touched the spot on his cheek and he smirked.

-O-O-O-

Since they'd decided things, he'd found himself spending an awful lot of time at her house. When he got off work or out of class, he'd somehow end up there. Usually, he'd study or read, grade papers for Professor Thorston, and now that that semester was waning to an end, he'd been swamped with such duties. Extra credit assignments had been given, and while Thorston labored over the final—hah—Hiccup shed sweat and blood over the poor grammatical skills of college undergrads.

He'd been sitting at her coffee table for three solid hours, bent over tiny typeface with a red pen in hand. He hated being the guy that did this. To have fate in his hands, to be able to tell students that their ideas were great, or complete garbage and their logic completely unsound. Who was he kidding. He didn't hate it. He just hated the consequences. Students knew Thorston didn't take the time to read all of their essays, and dirty glares in the hallway had become an everyday part of Hiccup's day. Oh well. What he wrote on their papers was nothing he wouldn't say to their faces.

During the hours of his vigil, the house was quiet except for Stormfly's beak clinking along the bars, her intermittent squawks and calls. Toothless circled her cage, and swatted at her, trying to play when Astrid let her out to roam around.

Toothless purred and meowed at her everytime she would speak. She called him "Pretty Kitty" which he was sure Toothless approved of.

Astrid had curled herself behind him, pressing her front into his back, curving her arms around his waist and sat for a few minutes. Hiccup pretended to work, but he was just sketching the curve of her jaw, her cheeks and braid on the margins of a piece of loose-leaf.

Restless, she grew bored and unfolded herself from him. He heard the mid-toned rumble of a coffee pot in the kitchen. She slid a cup silently onto the table beside him just minutes later before bounding up the stairs.

He didn't hear her return, but watched her flop onto the sofa. She cracked open a paperback book and worried her thumbnail between her teeth while she read. So he sketched that. He needed a break from the straight lines of black-and-white that made his vision blur.

He checked a few more works, and when he'd finished tonight's stack, he glanced back up to her. The book had fallen limp in her hand and her eyelashes fluttered slightly against her cheeks. Her lips were parted just slightly in sleep, her other arm curled over her belly.

He smiled.

His knees were sore when he stood, and cracked sharply when he crept over to her. He paused, waiting in the dim light of the living room for her to stir. But she didn't. He bent onto his knees next to the couch, just watching her. People always talked about how peaceful people looked when they slept, but Astrid looked like a completely different woman. Her features were relaxed, her brows arched just slightly as if she were thinking deeply on something, and he wondered if she was deep enough in sleep to be dreaming.

He leaned just that much closer to her and just barely touched his lips to hers. He felt her small exhale of breath and his spine tightened with electricity.

The moment was short-lived.

Her hand all but shot up to the back of his head, yanking his hair sharply.

He let out a pained grunt against her lips. He pulled back. Her eyes were still closed, but her eyebrows were drawn together at the disturbance to her sleep. He put a hand over hers, where it was still threatening to tear his hair from his scalp. "Ouch, calm down, woman!" he hissed quietly, trying to tug her hand free.

"W'ya'going?" she mumbled sleepily, smoothing her hand gently over the back of his head, as if apologizing.

"I'm about to go home, ok?" He shifted, leaning partially over her, settling his hand on the opposite side of her body. It was an entirely intimate and familial position, he thought afterwards, and unlike him to execute.

She gave a little groan, blindly settling a hand on the back of his t-shirt, gripping and tugging like she wanted him to stay. This was entirely unlike her, too.

His glasses drooped when his knee hitched up onto the couch to steady himself after being pulled forward. His heart drooped too, to the pit of his stomach. His other hand came to the edge of the couch, holding himself up.

She shifted too, so she was lying more flatly against the couch and not curled slightly on her side. He was practically hovering over her now it made him gulp. He didn't feel like he was twenty-four years old anymore. He was fifteen and entirely green about anything that had to do with…this.

"I've got a long day tomorrow. I have to turn in the draft of my thesis. And tests. And work." He couldn't help but let his fingers run over the freckled skin of her shoulder where the strap of her tank top had drooped.

"K," she ceded, her lids fluttering open slightly. In her sleepy haze, she seemed to realize their current situation and a smirk slinked across her mouth.

Her fingers tucked beneath the hem of his shirt, her palm flattened against the ridges of his spine.

She was sleepy, she was delusional. He tried to come up with reasons as to why she'd do such a thing. Her fingertips made fire bloom on his skin when they flexed gently.

He huffed, his breath blowing hot and blowing her bangs off her face.

"Mmmmfffph…" He shifted, his mind wrestling with the early morning he had tomorrow, and the sudden desire to just stay here, however indecorous that seemed to be.

"I need to go…I'm…" He tried to sit up, but his hand slipped from the edge of the couch and he half-fell-half-flopped forward, nearly landing face first in the carpet and crushing her in the process.

She chuckled at him.

He scrambled to his feet, smoothing his shirt down like a fine suit, and straightened his glasses. Maybe he'd pick up his dignity while he was at it.

"You are the _biggest_ dork I've ever met," she said tiredly, but evenly. The spell she'd been trying to cast by her hands was broken.

He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Heh…ugh…" He shifted and smiled self-depreciatingly.

"And its adorable."

She was smiling up at him, arms crossed over her chest though she was still reclined against the couch. Her paperback's pages were bent and wrinkled against the back of the couch, crushed from their ministrations.

He cracked a real smile now, stealing a chance to tease her in return. "Adorable? Did Astrid Hofferson just say 'adorable?'"

She just gave a noncommittal shrug of her shoulder and twisted to lie on her side again, tucking her hands under her chin. She gazed up at him, her lashes long and eyes bluer than he'd ever noticed before.

He bent to kiss her again, saying goodnight.

She was dozing off again by the time he'd gathered his papers, his backpack, and Toothless all into his arms.

-O-O-O-

"A date!" he bellowed, planting his hands to his cheeks like a schoolgirl, then he groaned. "You two will kill me," he murmured.

Valka bustled around her bedroom, searching for a necklace. _A necklace_. Hiccup's head swam, but he still felt a swirl of excitement in his stomach. A thrum of possibility. It was weird. He'd never felt that since he was a kid. Since he still believed his parents would make up somehow and everything would be great again. He'd never stopped wanting that, but now it was happening and he didn't quite know how to handle it.

"Let me get this straight. A _date _with my _father, _your_ ex-husband."_

Valka chuckled. "Is it so hard to believe? I thought you wanted this."

"I do. I really do…" he almost whispered. "Its just…wow…" He'd always known his father loved him and his mother. That much he never doubted. But loving someone wasn't the same as liking them, and Hiccup wasn't sure about the last part. Maybe his dad was making a change. Or maybe Hiccup had been wrong about everything.

A loud rap sounded against the front door.

"That's him," she said, worrying at her hair in the mirror. Hiccup had rarely seen her hair out of its braids. It made her look even more wild, falling over her shoulder in thin, whispy waves. "Let him in, would you dear?"

Hiccup patted Cloudjumper as he passed him in the living room, going to the foyer.

His father was dressed nicely, and his beard was trimmed just enough to make it tame. His hair was even combed.

"Dad. Hi." Hiccup moved to let him inside. "Mom's…still getting ready."

"No problem," he said. He sauntered into the living room and dropped himself onto the couch. He gave Cloudjumper a pat when he teetered over across the couch cushions. "Are you owl-sitting?" he asked, looking only slightly apprehensive at the bird pecking at his large round knees.

"No. I just stopped in to say hi."

"Ah," he said. Something flickered in his eyes that Hiccup couldn't read and silence stretched for at least a minute before he spoke again. "You could…I mean…you know…stop by and say hi…to me sometime."

"We work at the same place, Dad," Hiccup said.

"Right. Right. Of course."

Valka appeared in the doorway. Hiccup was going to say something else, but his father's focused shifted to the woman in the doorway. She looked like a dressier version of the strange-off-center-hippie-bird-lady she was.

"Hi," she said softly and tucked a long strand of auburn hair back behind her ear.

When Stoick crossed the room to envelope her in his arms, Hiccup stood too. "Well…I'm gonna go," he rushed, to avoid any awkwardness. "You guys should too. If you want to make your dinner reservations."

No one responded.

"K'bye," Hiccup called, turning for the door.

His motorcycle rumbled to life, and in the darkness of the yard, cast weird shadows on the barn.

He turned sharply so he could roll out of the driveway. Weirdly, he felt suddenly hopeful about his parents' date. Maybe this would be the solution they needed. Not even aligning their interests through Hiccup's employment at his shop had brought them together thus far. Maybe what Stoick was missing was his other half. After nearly twenty years of hoping they'd get back together, it might be happening sooner than later, and even though it was weird to watch, Hiccup could smile about it.

He made it onto the main highway, flexing his fingers around the handlebars. The bright lights passed in long lines, reflections glinting on the shield of his helmet. He sighed, feeling the breath warm the inside of his helmet.

He had gone to tell his mother that he and Astrid had finally ironed out a label, but he'd ended up interrupting her getting ready for her own date. The irony.

He smiled.

Distracted, he glanced up ahead of him when a bright reflection on the road alerted him of an oncoming car. He gasped sharply, swerving.

He didn't have time to think, to correct, to look, before his bike was slammed and sent spinning. He held on, body unyielding and bent over the handlebars. The bike tumbled and he felt a final impact against the equally unyielding ground. Pain was everywhere, screaming down his left side. His arms thrown over his head, the backs of his hands rested in cool dewy grass, but every other part of him searing. Like the asphalt was on fire and he was melting against it. He let his the weight of his head fall backwards, hoping to force air into his lungs, but instead his eyes fell shut and the night above grew blacker.


	7. Chapter 7

She'd try again. One more time. Why was it taking them so _goddamned _long? She pressed the phone to her ear and tried to quell the nervous and nauseous churning in her stomach. It rang once, twice. She groaned and tossed the phone aside, hanging up. Hiccup's things were piled on the small table next to her: the phone she'd just dialed his mother on, his jacket, a wallet. The black and white sneakers he'd worn had been thrown away and she was sure the rest of his clothes would be too. There had been entirely too much blood.

The thought made her feel ill all over again and she pressed a nervous hand over her mouth.

Rapid footsteps and a slamming door made her glance up. His parents were barging down the hallway. Stoick's eyes were wild and Valka's hair was damp from the rain that had started outside.

Astrid bolted towards them, nearly knocking his mother's sturdy figure over when she threw her arms around the woman.

"Oh, darlin'…everything's going to be alright," the older woman shushed her.

"What took so long?" she demanded harshly, now feeling more like picking a fight than hugging, releasing her hold and wiping her face quickly just to be sure there wasn't any wetness there.

"Come. Sit down," Valka said, wrapping her warm hands around her forearms and steering her into her seat. "Stoick, find someone to tell us what's going on."

His bulky figure was already headed for the nurses' station.

"He's in surgery," Astrid sputtered. "They took him there right away."

"Thank you for being here for him," Valka said, sitting beside her. "Now, you need to breathe. Everything's fine."

Astrid glared, mouth agape. Was she out of her mind? Nothing was fine. Nothing was fine about Hiccup on an operating room table, surrounded by doctors that wouldn't even tell them the whole story of what they were doing to him, if he was going to be alright, when he would wake up. Valka had called to tell her the news, but Astrid had arrived first. And she'd been left sitting here for the past half hour going out of her mind; no one would tell her anything because she wasn't immediate family. She'd had to wait for them to arrive, which had seemed to take ages. She panted a heavy breath, nearly ready to give this lady a piece of her mind, but Valka touched her arm and held her gaze. Her eyes were just as frightened as hers. Just as lost. Just as panicked. This was her son. Her only child. Astrid glanced away, ashamed.

"Thank you. I'm sorry…I shouldn't…"

"Shh…" Valka said again, patting her hand. "This is scary," she confirmed. "But there isn't anything we can do. We just have to wait."

"I hate waiting," she whispered, wiping an actual tear from her face. She grimaced at the wetness on her hand.

Valka reached a hand over and squeezed her shoulder, all out of comforting words, her own thoughts settling in. The women sat there, staring off, in an empty waiting room. Astrid tried not to watch the clock. She didn't want to think about how late in the evening it was.

Eventually Stoick ambled in with them and sank into a chair. "They're in surgery still. There's really no way of knowing how long its going to take, but they're going to…remove his leg. It was…it was shattered."

Astrid couldn't see him but heard the tightness in his voice. That alone was enough to produce a stream of tears, but the visual of Hiccup's limp body rolling into the OR, and _all the blood…_was enough to bring bile rising in her throat.

She heard Valka make a strange noise, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She couldn't—_wouldn't—_watch this woman cry.

She twisted away from them, planting her face in her palms. Things had only just begun. She'd only just started learning who he was, falling for that stupid, silly sense of humor. And now all of this. He'd be entirely different now. The physical did not matter. It was the emotional trauma he'd certainly experience, and weeks of recovery. She could do nothing but be there. She knew that, but the thought still made her feel entirely helpless.

She drew a hand over her face and curled her knees up in the chair. It was hard and made of stiff vinyl, but maybe sleeping would calm her, and quicken the time until Hiccup was out of surgery and able to be visited. Hopefully.

On the little wooden end table where his things lay, she reached over a hand to touch the edge of the jacket folded neatly. It was just a simple grey hoodie, plain with a silver zipper. She hadn't ever seen it before. Rather than make her feel grounded, it just made her feel even more uncertain.

She pulled her hand away and curled it under her chin, resting her head against the back of the chair. For awhile, she just sat. Behind her, Valka was crying softly. Then sniffling.

The waiting room quiet, and she was finally able to drift away from all the panic and dread, letting her mind go blank from thinking on anything. They'd just have to wait. That was the hardest part. Being on the outside.

An uncomfortable and uneasy sleep claimed her and she welcomed it.

It seemed she didn't even get a decent rest, still aware of the sounds and voices around her. In time that only seemed a matter of minutes, Valka was waking her, patting her hand against her shoulder.

"He's out of surgery," she whispered. "He's still not awake, but they say we can see him. One at a time. Stoick and I are going in first, ok?"

She nodded.

"Wait here, and we'll be back. Try to sleep a little bit more," she encouraged, drawing a hand over the girl's hair before she followed Stoick out of the room and down the long, sterile, white hallway.

She did not sleep again, but twisted uncomfortably in the chair, cracking her neck and popping her back. She stood and took a walk around the room to stretch her legs, ending up at the tall window facing the city outside. The sun was peeking over the buildings, sending little rays of orange across their roofs. The morning was cloudless and still dim; she estimated it was about six. She would have to go to work tonight, and as much as she wanted to get out of this place, she didn't want to leave him. She didn't want to take herself out of the loop of information.

Her braid was ratty and her entire body hurt from being cramped in the chair. She should go home and sleep at least a little before work. But not before seeing him. Whether he was awake or not. Just to lay eyes on him and know he was still here.

Hospitals didn't make her entirely uncomfortable. They just made her feel cramped. She needed movement, and in here there was just stillness. She remembered her uncle and a few of her foster families having been in hospitals before, but she hadn't ever thought much about it. They weren't a place she'd ever imagine Hiccup. Not even his recklessness on his motorcycle that she had been so apprehensive about would make her think that'd he'd ever end up here. But that was it she supposed. These things never were quite real until they were happening to you.

So why didn't anything feel real at the moment?

She hugged her cold arms and shuffled her hands along her skin, trying to get warm. His parents had never seen her tattoos, but she found that she really didn't care, and nobody had even seemed to notice. She wanted warmth, something to hide herself in and just shut everything out. Just have a few seconds of calm. Not this false calm the environment around her was creating.

Valka was sniffling when they returned, trying to pull herself together quickly, dabbing at her face with a tissue. Stoick's arm steered her for a chair. He nodded to her when their eyes met, and she didn't wait any longer to head for his room.

He was sleeping, and looked entirely too small for the bed. It was weird how people always seemed small in hospital beds, always frail and shrinking underneath the thin blanket and stiff pillow. She really didn't know where to go. To sit on the bed seemed too close, she was too tired to stand, and the chair in the corner was too far away. Machines around him beeped and hummed, and a little tube was stuck up his nose. Tapes and tubes dotted his arms that were limp at his sides over the blanket. Underneath, she could see that the shapes of his legs didn't match.

Again, she felt ill.

She just stood at his side, uncertain. Was she supposed to talk to him? Be quiet?

When she touched his hair, it was matted and sticky. His glasses were gone. She let a finger trace over his eyebrow. She'd never seen him without the glasses.

She bent down to kiss his forehead where a bandage was placed, probably over a minor scratch that he'd sustained during the crash. It had not been long at all since she thought of him as just the nerdy shopkeeper. Just the dork with the injured cat. She wondered at what point she'd actually come to care so deeply for him. She was never one for romance, never cared for all that stupid girly stuff, but she could get used to it. With him. On certain days.

She felt him stiffen beneath her touch and she pulled away. His breathing changed and shuddered in his lungs. She waited, taking several quiet paces backwards, ready to leave or get a nurse.

He took another pained breath and grimaced.

She wanted to say something, to touch him, to stroke his hair again. But she didn't. She watched him slowly struggle between waking and sleeping, but when he moved his arm to tug at the cords of IV's connected to him, she reached down and took his hand, stopping him.

His fingers were like ice.

"Don't," she whispered.

He groaned uncomfortably, and winced again before opening his eyes just barely.

"Wa's'going'on?" he mumbled. She just barely deciphered his words.

"Shhh…" she said softly, sandwiching his clammy yet cold hand between her own.

His eyes closed again. "Ohmygod…" he groaned.

She hushed him again. "I'm going to get your mom, Hiccup."

"Why?" He was confused. She wasn't sure if he could actually tell where he was, or if he even remembered the crash. She didn't want to ask.

"No," he said. "Just stay here." He words were much more pronounced. His eyes opened again. "What's going on?" he repeated. He was becoming lucid faster than she'd expected.

She sighed. She watched his forest green eyes dart down to their hands, his taped and bandaged, then up to the walls and the bright lights above.

"You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

"Sort of. But I can make a guess 'cause everything hurts like I was hit by a concrete truck."

She passed a hand through his hair. He was warmer than before, sweat slick on his scalp.

"Not quite."

"I wasn't hit by a concrete truck? So it was semi, then? It certainly wasn't a bicycle or a smart car. This is eighteen-wheeler pain, for sure."

She couldn't help but smile at his rambling, even though she was sure it wasn't good for his current state. It was ill-fitting, but it was comfortable. Something needed right now, even out of place.

"So everything's ok? I'm just a little banged up." He wasn't asking.

She looked away, to their hands and then the floor. "I should get your mom."

"No. Its fine. Just tell me when I can go home."

She sighed, defeated. "Probably awhile."

"Tomorrow?"

"No, Hiccup." Her tone was sadder and darker than she'd meant it to be. She couldn't tell him…

"Hiccup," her throat tightened and she tried to straighten her shoulders with false bravado. It was for naught; two identical streams inched down her cheeks. "I just want you to know that no matter what happens over the next few months, or what anyone says, I'm not going anywhere. I'm…We're…all going to help you. Remember that, ok?"

"Astrid, you're scaring me." His tone didn't sound frightened at all. "I'm just a little bruised is all."

She shook her head, removing one of her hands from his to wipe her face. She turned away, wishing she would've just gone to get Valka like she'd said she was going to. She hated when people watched her while she cried.

"No, Hiccup. You're not just a little bruised." She took a shaking breath and looked down at the shape of his mangled leg beneath the blankets. "You lost your leg."

"You're crazy. I'm…" He moved one bandaged arm, the one with less tubes snaking from it, the one Astrid had been holding, to lift the blanket. From the way his bed was angled, he only had to lift his head a few inches to see.

She covered her mouth with both hands and stared down at the speckled tiles. She didn't want to even look at his face. She couldn't watch that kind of reaction.

She waited several long moments, waiting to hear him crying or ask questions. Shouting. _Something_. But he was silent to. She took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, letting another wave of tears roll onto her fingers. He wasn't saying _anything._

"I'm going to get your mom," she managed, feeling a weight pressing her chest, suddenly claustrophobic and several other emotions she couldn't let herself feel. She wasn't sure if she'd actually go get the woman, or climb up to the roof of the hospital for fresh air. She just needed to go.

She turned, and let the door fall shut silently behind her.

Once she was down the hall and caught sight of Valka and Stoick, she was in tears all over again. She covered her face out of instinct, rushing out everything that had happened in one long breath.

Valka was on her feet immediately, her heavy footfalls echoing rapidly down the hall back to Hiccup.

She wiped her raw cheeks for the fortieth time that day, and sighed. She slumped back into the chair and just tried to silence everything. She couldn't process. She couldn't even begin to.

She let herself cry. She let her shoulders shake like a child, held her breath and let it all come pouring out. She didn't really care who saw anymore. Her hands were just as sticky and dried as her face once she stopped, wiping them down her shirt front. As strong as she thought she was, and made herself look, she was strong enough for this.

A huge hand enveloped her shoulder and she turned to face Hiccup's father, still swiping at her wet lashes. Every time she saw him, he just looked even more huge than before, but also softer.

"You hungry?" he asked. She was pretty sure she gave him the most scathing glare she'd ever thought to give, but he just looked back at her, tired and his eyes rimmed.

"Come on, lass," he said, rising and standing at least six feet over her. She didn't really protest. She didn't have the energy to.

They bought stale sandwiches in the hospital cafeteria, sitting on opposite sides of a table eating quietly.

"Thank you for being here for Hiccup," he said and she nodded. "You're good for him, I think."

She just shrugged and gave a small smile. "I think he's better for me than I am for him."

"Do you love him?" he asked, and Astrid nearly let the tomatoes fall from her sandwich.

"I haven't really thought that far…" she said with another shrug.

"Well, that's the thing about love. It doesn't think." His face bloomed with a wide grin that Astrid couldn't help but return.

"His mother and I…we've had our times. We just couldn't make things work. It happens sometimes. But I know, with everything that's happened, that I still love her. And maybe we're old enough now to just be realizing its all that really matters."

She smiled. "Hiccup loves you." She didn't know why she said it. It just seemed to fit. "He thinks the world of you. Sometimes he just gets intimidated by it, I think." She chewed on a limp French fry.

Stoick's chair creaked when he leaned back into it. "I haven't been as patient with him as I could've been. And I haven't known how to show I care about him in a way he can understand…I know that. But in recent weeks I've learned that there's always the ability to start over. We're here now, under bad circumstance maybe, but things will pass and better things will come from this. That's a certainty."

She nodded, feeling suddenly awkward about having this conversation with this man she barely knew. When Hiccup was in such a state, it seemed strange to talk about him. They chased away the rest of their worries with two tiny cups of vanilla ice cream. Stoick finished his in seconds. Astrid was still finishing hers when they returned to the waiting room, mostly because her stomach was entirely too queasy to eat it quickly. While they waited for Valka and she stared into the cardboard bottom of her cup, she remembered getting ice cream with Hiccup just a week and a half ago. It didn't always make things better, but it helped ,she supposed.

When she was able to see Hiccup again, he looked worse. His face was blotchy and red, and he just looked emotionally exhausted. This time, she did ease herself onto the very edge of the bed after he assured her it was ok. She held his hand, stroking his knuckles where they were bandaged. It seemed he'd sustained all kinds of cuts and bruises, even a couple bruised ribs. The worst was something he wouldn't talk about, and she didn't want to.

"I'm going to go home and get some sleep before I go to work tonight," she said.

"Will you come back?"

She looked down to him, and dared to reach up and brush her fingers over his cheek. "Of course. I told you I was going to be here for you."

He nudged against her hand, like Toothless. She smiled at the thought.

The doctors had explained his options to him, and given him time to think things over. She suspected he had already decided. It didn't take him long to figure out what he wanted. It was him meditating on the reasons why not to that worried her.

She bent to kiss the butterfly bandage on his cheek and suddenly felt flushed. Like this was forbidden, like this was the backseat of a car and they were teenagers. She leaned away, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"I'll see you," she said.

"Come back soon, please," he said, his voice quiet. He looked tired suddenly, as if he could sleep for hours. The medicine did this, the doctors had said.

"I will. Go to sleep."

"I secretly like it when you're bossy," he said, turning his head to a more comfortable position to sleep.

She tossed him an honest smile before heading for the door, letting it click softly behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: You guys. I went to the mailbox today and there was a package. I thought it was a textbook, but no! It was the HTTYD2 soundtrack on VINYL and ohmygosh I am freaking the flip out. AGGGHHHHH! I thought it wasn't going to be here for a week, but it was here and AHHHHHH! Appreciate it with me. You are the only ones who understand this. Oh. My. Gosh. Beauty. Imagine the soundtrack, but warmer and richer, pure magic coming off your turntable needle. Because….oh my gosh, its glorious.

On a side note, I've got an idea for a new story, but I know if I start it I will get totally distracted on this one, and life in general, so I'm trying to wait. I hope some of you will follow me there after the end of this story…which I can't tell you exactly when that will be. But my writer's brain is always sparking with new ideas. Which may or may not include a really cool idea for a feral!HiccupAU, if I do say so myself.

Anywho….onward.

-O-O-O-

It was surprising how fast news spread. Especially news about a dorky TA in his final year of grad school. The school had decided to waive his final exams, and sent a polite gesture of their condolences in a letter. The students from his lab had sent a card, signed with crude jokes and scribbled signatures. It had been a week now, and he not feeling up to any other visitors besides his parents and Astrid, who now sat nearby wearing a set of purple scrubs printed with puppies and her hair in a ponytail rather than its usual braid.

It was funny to see; her in those cutes-y scrubs, but she threatened him with a death glare when he opened his mouth to make some sarcastic comment. That was Astrid. She could be many things at once, but always fierce and roughened around the edges.

"I have my own personal Nurse Astrid to help me recover," he said anyways, righting a new pair of glasses on his nose. His mother had fished around for them at his house, and brought a set of clothes for him to change in to when he was released. The doctors had not given any date on that, but they were hoping.

"Good thing your entire body is covered with bumps and bruises, because I'm really tempted to punch you."

"You say that like you mean it."

She sat on the edge of his bed, on his left side where the rounded end of his leg was. She had learned, after the initial shock wore off, that it wasn't weird and it wasn't ugly. It was Hiccup, no matter how much he hated it and how much he poured on the humor just to make them believe he didn't. He'd ignored discussing the entire issue with her, but now she would force the question.

"The doctors want you to be fit with a prosthetic."

"Please don't be my mother," he said, his sarcastic smile waning.

"I told you I was going to be here fore you. So stop ignoring reality when you're around me. I'm not just going to be the one you can have fun around and be your distraction. This is serious, Hiccup."

He looked away, his eyes turning sad. "I know that."

"So let's decide…"

"I don't want anyone to help me decide," he said, his tone even and dull. "I want to figure it out myself."

"The sooner we discuss this…"

"The sooner I can go home? Right. That's the goal here, isn't it?" His features twitched. "Getting me home. Getting home so I can watch my life deconstruct around me because everything's going to change, Astrid. Everything." He was watching her now, with wide eyes. His hands gestured around him. "I won't be able to do anything the same. Ever. I'm going to need help all the time. I'm not going to be able to teach in the spring. I might not even be able to go to classes. In my last semester! Everything I've worked for up to this point might as well just end."

"You're being stupid," she said, which was not what she meant. But it was the easiest choice of words that required her brain the least amount of effort. Easy was not what Hiccup needed. She looked away, and so did he.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She had no right to be here. No right to tell him what to do, or even to encourage him. No matter what they called things—boyfriend, girlfriend, friends—she had not known him long enough to have any sort of authority. In the scope of the length of their lives, she barely knew him. She glanced to the other side of the room, brushing a hand over her cheeks to dry them. She was crying much too often for her liking recently.

She flinched when his taped knuckles brushed against the bare skin of her arm.

"I don't want you to think I'm shutting you out," he said.

She tilted her head towards him, but didn't look at him. "I don't."

"I won't. I'll try not to. I don't want to….I don't know what to do. I just…" He sighed. "I'm _angry_, and scared. And confused. And they want me to just pretend like I didn't just lose a major part of my body; like everything's fine. They want to attach some plastic thing that's going to get me out quick, because that's easier than actually helping, because I'm just a number. That's fine. I'll be a number. I just wish somebody would tell me that my entire life isn't going to be a complete waste now."

"Like I said…" she chanced. She squared her shoulders. "You're being stupid." She looked over to him. His eyebrows drew together, but he didn't look offended. Just lost in his own thoughts, glancing down at the bedcovers. "There's no way you're going to waste. You're too smart. You're innovative, and you're Hiccup. A prosthetic doesn't change that. Nothing will. You're going to figure out a way," she said, pressing a hand over his where they rested in his lap.

He didn't look comforted, or like his own well of thoughts had been quenched, but she hadn't expected him to. He nodded. "Yeah."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you," he said. "You don't have to do any of this." She could tell he meant it. That for all intents and purposes, she could've left. She didn't have to be here, getting as little sleep as anyone else, waiting for updates and dealing with his introverted moods now that he was awake. But he sounded so sad, so unlike Hiccup, that she tried to lighten the mood just so he might smile.

She stood and poured him a fresh cup of water. "But then what would you do without me?"

-O-O-O-

A week later, he was fit with a contraption with the likings of a plastic foot attached to the bottom, and finally she felt Hiccup's apprehensions reflect her own. This did not fit him. Physically, and as much as the hospital staff would seek to care, it worked. But it was not Hiccup. It was generic and ugly and had a low functionality that would require much upkeep and maneuvering to actually get a full range of motion.

He sat at the edge of his bed, the hollow and hard plastic dangling from the end of his knee, hands braced at the edge of the mattress. And he just looked so defeated that it made Astrid's throat burn.

"I hate it," he said. His eyes were on the floor.

"We'll try something else," his mother said tiredly, but managed to sound hopeful all the same.

"I could make something…" he said. If their focus hadn't been on him, they would've missed it. He didn't say it with the usual exuberance that came with the spark of a new idea. His words were flat and void.

Before anyone could agree or disagree, Hiccup's hands went to his face, the heels of his hands scrubbing against his eyes. When he shifted to wipe his nose, Astrid heard the tiniest hitch in his breath that he tried to hide, before a quiet sob that would not be disguised escaped his throat.

"Darling," Valka cooed softly, stepping forward and wrapping herself around him.

Astrid had not seen this yet. She hadn't seen him cry; wasn't even sure if he had. If he had gotten a chance to really 'grieve' as the doctors called it. She hadn't taken him for a crier. But in this moment, she realized that none of them, no matter how long they stayed with him, however much they promised to help and did help, they would never understand what he was feeling. She couldn't even imagine it. It seemed like a small thing; he was still living, after all. But to have to practically learn everything over again…it would be difficult. Still she knew he'd pull through. And even with this, she was forced to realize that anything she thought or hoped was miniscule and counterfeit compared to what Hiccup felt. No amount of pep talks or believing hard enough would help him through this. They were all empty and overused. There had to be something solid; something Hiccup decided on his own.

His shoulders were shaking under Valka's strong arms, but his tears were silent. Astrid felt suddenly useless, and much like she was intruding on a private moment. Again, she was pulled in the direction of the door. But her feet just felt leaded into the floor.

She watched his mother pat his hair, heard her whispering something she didn't catch. Then, she felt an all too familiar wetness on her own cheeks. When Valka met her eyes, she noticed for the first time that her deep green eyes matched Hiccup's own. The woman glanced at her sorrowfully, looking as vulnerable as Astrid had ever seen.

What Stoick had said about things getting better was certainly not manifest now. She supposed that the only way to go from here was up, but she wondered how long the climb would be.

Hiccup shifted, untangling his arms from his mother, wiping at his face which she tried to blot for him with a tissue.

"I can do this," he said. "I know its hard. I know its going to hurt. But I can. I just have to…" He sighed and his voice trailed away. "I'm ready…" he said.

He couldn't complete a thought recently, but Astrid wondered if that was really anything new. His mind was overactive as it was. With all this new emotion and information to process, she was certain he was overwhelmed, barely able to form words to express it all.

She agreed to stay with him, and watched the new interest and something akin to confidence spark in his eyes when the nurses came later to speak to him about different choices he had. She knew he was taking in the mechanics of how most of these things worked, rendering a new invention in his head as they spoke.

Late in the evening, when he should've been sleeping, Astrid was nearby in a chair completing her twentieth Sudoku puzzle when he called her name.

"Hey. Astrid. Come look at this."

With only mild reluctance, she unfolded herself from the chair and peeked over at his paper: a hospital notepad he'd shredded several sheets from already. It was quite an ergonomic and stylish looking design, bowing at an attractive arch and bent just so at the part where she suspected was supposed to model a foot.

"See?" he pointed with the pen. "How its rounded there? It'll give me better control, kinda like an actual ankle and the ball of your foot combined. Get it? And that could probably be fiberglass there." He pointed at another area, already excited. "That would have to be a stronger plastic, there. Maybe even a metal. Hmmm…" He poked the end of his pen between his lips and chewed.

She watched him, his square teeth worrying the end of the pen. She could tell that his teeth had been gapped as a child. His forest eyes were focused on the paper pad again, creating and inventing new strategies.

He just looked…like Hiccup. She bent forward to run a hand through his hair, kissing the path that her fingers had left. He didn't even seem to be phased from his meditation, but after a few seconds looked up at her and smiled. The corners of his eyes quirked upwards with the motion of it, full and wide.

She felt herself perk up a little. She had waited for nearly two weeks now to see that smile.

But as quickly as it was given, he was back to doodling, still the line of his mouth set in a faint smirk.

In that two-second smile, he'd let her know exactly how he felt. She saw the warmth and innocence in a newly discovered way to touch. She saw gratitude and something she hadn't seen in awhile…confidence and expectation and the glow it brought with it.

It made her smile back. Even though he was no longer looking.

-O-O-O-

When he was released, plans were worked out about who would stay with him and what lengths of shifts they would keep to help him with things around the house. Most of the time, he was in the living room with various materials and sketches spread around him, fitting pieces together and testing this or that while the other, ugly foot hung from his leg.

He was learning how to use it, but hated every second of it. He could stand now, and take a few steps even through a grimace of pain. Astrid could tell it was wearing on him; the effort of everything. But he pushed through.

When Astrid arrived in the early morning after her shift at the animal hospital, he was already awake with a bowl of cereal in his lap, sitting on the couch staring down at an array of renderings on the coffee table.

"Awake already?" she yawned. "I hope you aren't becoming manic." Toothless purred at her ankles and she bent to pet him and scoop him up.

"Good morning, m'lady," he said cheerily, toasting his coffee cup towards her.

"I'm taking a nap," she declared groggily, falling along the length of the couch which he did not occupy. She nudged and wriggled until he moved the cereal bowl and she could lay her head against his right thigh.

"Sure you don't want the bed?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Here's good." She tucked her hands beneath her chin and closed her eyes. Toothless curled up close to her belly.

He moved and leaned to set the bowl on the side table. When he finally settled, looking back down at his papers, Astrid was just barely awake.

"What happens when I want to get up?" he asked quietly.

"You're not going very far anyways, now are you? Now shh…"

She heard him chuckle softly and felt the warmth of his fingers hovering just over her skin, almost nervously. And then they pressed gently against the whisps of hair against her cheek that had escaped her braid.

He tucked them back behind her ear and let his fingers trace the small tattoo of the blue dragon beneath it. With other colors streaked into its wings, it looked an awful lot like Stormfly, with larger teeth and claws.

She was so pretty.

He smiled.

Even though he was freshly caffeinated, he let his head drop back against the couch and closed his eyes too. One hand patted Toothless nearby, the other on her shoulder.

Everything was a mess. But there was solidarity here, with them. And he could be satisfied in that for now.

-O-O-O-

He jolted, his hand shooting up to grab his knee. He grimaced and tried with everything to see through the white fog of pain shooting through his leg, making his mind blur.

He must've made some sort of noise, but his ears were ringing too loudly for him to tell. He felt hands on his shoulders, pressing him back against the couch. He now remembered dozing off there, but couldn't remember a person being there until he opened his eyes finally and saw her. Her outline duplicated and became one again. He could see her lips moving but couldn't understand her. The humming in his ears lowered a few decibels and he could finally feel himself breathe.

"Calm down," she was saying. "Just try and breathe."

All at once, the searing stopped and he could see her clearly. He let out a long breath, his lungs aching. "Well that's never…happened before," he managed.

"What happened?" she said, sliding to plant her knees next to his lap, facing him.

"It felt like my leg was still there. I've felt that before, but its never felt like they were sawing it off all over again."

Before he could say anything to stop her, she reached down and pressed her hand softly against the seam where the prosthetic foot met the rest of his remaining limb. He wanted to protest, but instead her just let out a frightened gulping breath.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"You scared me to death," she said, watching her hand where her fingers were flexing at his knee.

"Scared _you?"_ he gasped. "I'm going to lay down." He leaned on his good leg when he stood and steadied himself easily.

She followed behind. Whether it was adrenaline or new fear, he didn't seem to be any more awkward on the new limb than he usually was. He inched down the hall, leaning against the wall heavily. When he finished his crab-crawl around the corner of his bedroom door and finally flopped onto the edge of his bed, he realized she'd been following.

"I don't need help sleeping," he said.

"I'm not helping you," she answered, crawling beside him and over to the opposite end of the bed. "I didn't finish my nap."

He looked uncertainly at her while she pulled back his plain blue duvet and tucked her pale legs beneath it. He just sat, watching her with raised eyebrows.

"Are you going to lay down or just pout?" she said.

Slowly, he moved and twisted to be parallel to her. He hadn't ever—_ever —_had a girl in his bed. Or any bed. Which was an embarrassing thing to think, and certainly something he'd never—_ever —_admit. He settled beside her, and when her hand came around his waist, he let himself relax. It was surprisingly natural.

He traced the angle her shoulder made and she let out a little sigh, settling deeper into his pillow.

Moments of intensity followed by moments of calm. This is what his life had been since she fell into it. He sort of liked it. He sort of liked her. Her with him here.

He let her curled her front against his, her knees bumping against his, and he couldn't bring himself to protest anymore—even mentally.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Short, but I like the ending the way it was so I didn't want to ruin it by adding anything else.

-O-O-O-

His cheek was pressed against her shoulder when he woke. In his hair, her fingers were twining through the unruly auburn strands.

When he huffed and shifted, she stopped. "Well, good afternoon, sleepyhead." She teased, her voice in a whisper.

His lips brushed the freckled skin of her shoulder on accident and he hummed. "Time is it?"

"About two in the afternoon. I have tonight off from work, so I'm staying here. But I've got to go home and get some stuff together, ok?"

He looped an arm around her waist and nudged against her, trying to keep her there, making her chuckle. The movement made him flush suddenly, remembering exactly where they were.

"Oh, gosh," he said to himself, but aloud. He pulled away gently, and she didn't seem to realize that he'd been talking to himself.

She sat up now, bracing herself against the wall behind them.

"You slept with that on?" she said, looking down at the form of his legs under the covers.

He followed her gaze. "Oh. It doesn't really matter, they told me. I forgot…"

She was shifting her own legs out from under the blankets and finding his with her hands before he was finished speaking. When her fingers reached the edge of the hard plastic socket that hugged his leg just under the knee, he jerked away.

"No. Please don't." His heart hammered painfully when he said it, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't wanted to have to hash out all of this, and hoped she would question him no further. When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him.

"Please…don't do that," he repeated, the words shaking on his tongue.

She sat back.

"I don't want you to," he said, more certain now, drawing a careful but impassable barrier.

"I'm not worried about what you look like, Hiccup," she protested.

"I am," he answered, giving the simplest explanation he could muster at the moment. "And don't tell me I'm being stupid, because I'm not." He turned his hips, swinging his legs off the bed, preparing to stand, but she gripped his shoulders.

She nudged her chin against his back softly, burying her nose between his shoulder blades. "I wasn't going to say that." She kissed the material of his t-shirt. "I was going to say how proud I am of you. And I know you don't want to hear it."

He let his mouth curl upwards when her hands warmed his upper arms when she squeezed them. "And I was going to say that I get it."

She didn't, but he understood where she was coming from, so he didn't protest.

He wished, and knew she did too, that she could've said something fitting, like this was a movie or a television show. But reality wasn't so predictable.

"I've got some things to get from home," she said, unraveling herself and standing up fully on the bed. He let himself smile and swatted her calves. She tip-toed to the edge of the bed and stepped down gracefully.

"Are you staying the night?" he asked uncertainly.

She paused at the doorframe and leaned up against it. The way she leaned, the way her t-shirt was still bunched from resting and her eyes still sleepy seemed to make the somber mood dissolve. "Is that cool?"

He felt that weird jelly feeling again. The one he hadn't felt since they kissed on her driveway. It seemed like forever ago. He swallowed. "Cool," his voice pitched and he cleared his throat. She smiled. He even saw her blush, her freckles becoming more pronounced. Did she actually _like _it when he made a complete nerd of himself?

"I mean its…very cool," he said, leveling his voice and schooling his features to a more masculine position, and nodded.

She just laughed, and by the sound of it he was certain he looked nothing close to manly.

-O-O-O-

When she returned, he was notified by Toothless's enthusiastic meowing from the living room. She'd brought a visitor, by the sounds of a familiar squawking and murmured phrases.

"Alright, you ridiculous animal! Just give me a second!" she said to the cat, presumably. He heard the clanking of a cage being opened and the ruffle of wings. There was an amiable exchange of meows and chirps that made him smile.

When she made her way into the bedroom, she stretched on her back over the empty side of the bed next to him, as if it were natural. "You're still here? You aren't that immobile."

"I was reading." He waved towards his book, and she plucked it from his hands.

"_Mechanics of Materials, Eighth Revised Edition," _she read. "You are a nerd." She plopped the book back against his stomach and he gave a groan.

"At least I'm a cute nerd. And _I'm_ not violent." He rubbed his belly.

She chuckled. In the other room, a raucous of squeaks and purrs sounded.

"I'm glad they're getting along," he said. "We should film them. We could send it in somewhere. We'd be YouTube sensations."

She scooted closer so their sides were touching. "I'm sorry about earlier," she said softly, effectively changing the subject and becoming serious. She was always doing things like that, and it threw him off sometimes.

He turned his head so he could press his nose into her hair. She smelled like strawberries, or some random thing she'd picked out at a glance at the store. He couldn't imagine she put much thought into things like that. "I've already forgotten about it," he answered.

They were quiet awhile, and he followed a few whispy strands of golden hair down to the shell of her ear. She shifted at the gesture and turned her spine a bit to face him.

"I was thinking you could modify the pedals on your bike. So you could keep riding."

He swallowed. Of course he'd already though about that. He sighed. He didn't want to think that it scared him—but it did.

"I don't know." He wanted to change the subject again, but he grasped uselessly for something to say so she'd forget about it. "I need to figure out this prosthetic nonsense first. I really need to be in the shop on campus to mess around with things."

"We'll go tomorrow," she confirmed.

He smiled down at her and wondered briefly exactly how many freckles she had. "I'm really happy you're here," he said stupidly. "At the hospital, the nurses and the doctors and everyone…they just didn't want to get it all, you know?" He gestured to his head. "hey acted like everything was normal, when it really wasn't. I know they're used to seeing this stuff everyday, and I guess they're supposed to make you have hope or whatever…But all sort of false. But when I would see you, or Mom, and even Dad, I would know things were ok."

He was rambling, and he wished he could shut himself up, but when he looked up at her, he saw her eyes glinting in that telling way that they had in his mother's kitchen on Thanksgiving. He wondered what kind of outlook growing up without anybody had given her on ideas about love and relationships (Love? Scratch that. He wouldn't even go there). Somewhere along the way, she had to have been effected deeply. Just the way he had been when his father brushed him aside. Yet here she was, leaned close to him in his bed in his tiny apartment, their pets playing and squabbling outside, and he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything outside of their world.

Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but he bent down and kissed her before she could.

She let out a tiny sigh when they parted, and he secretly reveled in it. In the fact that he could make the fearless, tough punk girl _sigh _like that.

"What was that for?" she breathed.

He gave a cheeky smile.

"For everything else."


End file.
